


Apocalypse

by Maleyah (Katherine_Kat)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And then they were quarantined, Anxiety, Bottom Castiel (Supernatural), Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, But bossy Cas I do believe, COVID19, Covid-19 Related, Dementia, Dude don't make me pigeonhole too much, Fanart, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, I tried not to I swear, Light Angst, Light Bondage, M/M, Mal wrote a thing, Misha's granny, Nurse!Sam, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Real Time, Restaurant owner!Dean, Shibari, Slow Burn, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Dean Winchester, Translator!Cas, real time posting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:14:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 78,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23199145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katherine_Kat/pseuds/Maleyah
Summary: Dean moves through Cas’ kitchen with the ease of familiarity, as he sets about re-heating the leftovers. Ironically Cas’ kitchen is better equipped than the one in his apartment. It’s just that he’s been pouring all his money into The Roadhouse. The apartment is a rental anyway.“You have got to be shitting me!”His eyebrows shoot up at the language. Cas doesn’t curse often, but given the fact that the world is slowly descending into madness, he has a good guess what is provoking it. He glances behind him, across the counter that connects the open kitchen to the living room, where Cas is staring at the television.A.k.a. 33 days of fluff, set in a peculiar time in history. Also the one where Dean is a bit slow on the uptake.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Michael/Adam Milligan
Comments: 432
Kudos: 383
Collections: Lock Down Fest





	1. March 18th 2020

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATED: Art in chapter 32!
> 
> Aight, here we are, because I succumbed! A few things, maybe, before you dive in. Beta'd by [xLailanix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xLailanix/profile) who I'm sure didn't fully realize what she signed up for when she offered. Incidentally, also one of the people who keeps the world turning, while others are at home. Gief love.
> 
> For starters... The title song is [Apocalypse by Cigarettes After Sex](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=paODmdHQWMo), a personal favorite band at the moment. I am using another one of their songs for another WIP.
> 
> Secondly, this was inspired by Misha's post on IG, the picture with his grandmother. So I blame him.
> 
> Thirdly, I wanted to ignore the 'and then they were quarantined' thing, I really did. Clearly that didn't work out. See point 2.
> 
> Fourthly (enough, woman), this is going to be real time posting with a clear Destiel happy end in sight, obviously, though depending on what the real world does, it will bleed into it. This fic is basically one giant coping mechanism.
> 
> **The next chapter is going up tomorrow!**
> 
> Sidenote: tags edited as this fic grows.
> 
> Feel free to leave me some love in the comments/kudos section, if you enjoy these boys, and equally free to make suggestions, both for this story and others. I'm open and I've got time. (Well, technically I should be writing on a bang. I'll get back to that, I promise.)
> 
> Come join fellow SPN/Destiel weirdo aficionados on [the Profound Bond Discord server](https://discord.gg/profoundbond)! Demons of a feather flock together <3
> 
> Be good to yourself and each other in these Mad Max times. (Srsly, shopping was a blast.)  
> Love,  
> Mal

Dean moves through Cas’ kitchen with the ease of familiarity, as he sets about reheating the leftovers. Ironically Cas’ kitchen is better equipped than the one in his apartment. It’s just that he’s been pouring all his money into The Roadhouse. The apartment is a rental anyway.

“You have got to be shitting me!”

His eyebrows shoot up at the language. Cas doesn’t curse often, but given the fact that the world is slowly descending into madness, he has a good guess what is provoking it. He glances behind him, across the counter that connects the open kitchen to the living room, where Cas is staring at the television.

He doesn’t need to ask. It’s been coming. Hell, The Roadhouse has been closed for a week, a fact he’s been trying to work around like a madman. He continued providing a pick-up service, which a fair few of his steady clientele took to, but it’s emptying the ocean with a thimble. Or it will be, because from the sounds of Cas’ continued muttered cursing, that’s going to get railroaded as well and then he’s not quite sure what to do.

He lowers the hobs to their minimal setting and grabs a towel to wipe his hands, making his way to the living room. Cas turns to him, eyes wide, hand with the remote still in it aimed at the screen.

“They’re locking us down!”

His eyes skitter to the screen and sure enough, there it is. “Up the volume a bit,” he says, angling towards Cas subtly.

“Stores and other non-essential businesses remain closed, with the exception of food stores, pet stores, pharmacies and bookstores. Access to supermarkets will be regulated and access will be limited to 1 person per 100 square feet for a maximum of 30 minutes. Citizens are required to stay at home and avoid contact with the outside world, barring their family, their job and essential excursions, such as food and medicine. Telework has to be accomodated as much as possible. Physical activity in open air is allowed and encouraged, but we encourage you to maintain the required distance of 6 feet. Gatherings of any kind are no longer allowed and police will ensure this measure is respected. Non-essential travel is forbidden until April 5 th .”

The announcement is over in a flash, its implications quite clear and obvious.

He looks to Cas for a response. Cas shifts his weight from one foot to the other, eventually landing on the one that brings him closest to Dean. His anxiety is palpable in the air and Dean recognizes the tell-tale signs in the way his shoulders shake and he fidgets with the edges of his sweater sleeves. His breathing’s shifting into sudden, dangerous territory.

“Cas…”

He reaches for the remote and takes it from Cas’ shaking hand, muting the sound before tossing it aside. Wide, blue eyes snap away from the screen, which is good, because if they didn’t, it’d be worse.

“Fu… Fuck.”

His inhale is sharp, a high-pitched wheeze cutting through it. Cas’ voice gives out on the end of that expletive, as he tries to gulp down more air, and suddenly he’s spiraling, breathing going fast and shallow, which risks him passing out within the next few minutes. Dean’s seen it before.

Cas reaches for him on instinct, fingers digging into his biceps hard enough to bruise, and Dean steers him towards the couch. He goes pliant under his touch, one leg under his ass, as he presses his hands to his chest, trying desperately to breathe.

Dean pulls open the coffee table drawer and grabs one of the paper bags. Reaching for him once more, Cas’ fingers start rubbing the fabric of his plaid shirt, in search of the feel of texture. He scoots closer, Cas whimpering softly and his heart clenches.

“Look at me.”

Cas listens, but he’s not all there and his eyes skitter away all too quickly, scrunching shut the next second. Dean holds the bag with two hands around Cas’ mouth. “Breathe for me, Cas. Come on.”

Eyes fluttering, as he clutches onto Dean, Cas obeys, but he is still breathing too shallow.

“Slower. Deeper.”

There’s a curious uptick in Cas’ eyebrow, though he might be imagining it. Dean dips his voice lower, because he knows Cas is susceptible to its timbre, even when he himself seems blissfully unaware. Nor is his best friend aware of when and how Dean usually uses it. It’s been awhile since he last scened, which may or may not be tied to his horribly ill-conceived crush on Cas.

“That’s it. I’ve got you.”

His soft-spoken, anxious yet steel-spined Cas. Self-employed, holed up in his tiny, cozy house, between stacks of books he has to translate, because he speaks and writes five fuckin’ languages more fluently than Dean does English. His bespectacled, oversized-t-shirt and sweater-wearing Cas who sits ramrod-straight behind his desk and with folded legs everywhere else.

He’s muttering soothing words to Cas, their gazes locked for who knows how long really, but long enough for Cas to come back to him. With a shiver wracking through his frame, Cas leans forward, touching his forehead to Dean’s.

He doesn’t do touch easily, his Cas, so whenever it happens, Dean’s always a bit out of sorts. Because Cas is so beautiful in all his vulnerable glory, he wants to soothe him further, pull him into his arms, but he can’t.

Cas disentangles his fingers from his shirts and his skin's tingling. Dean’s sure that left a bruise. With increasingly less shaky hands, he folds them over Dean’s and lowers the paper bag.

“You need to go home.”

He becomes aware of the shift in Cas immediately. Never mind that he just went through an anxiety attack. His concern for Dean overwrites his concern for his own wellbeing.

And well, that just won’t do.

Dean grimaces. “To what? My tiny apartment and cactus?”

“Hey, Jack’s gonna need you.”

_ You’re gonna need me more, _ he thinks, but he doesn’t say it. “I still can’t get over the fact that you named my cactus.”

“What can I say?” Cas smiles. He’s sweaty and pale, but the way he moves, he’s shaking it off, as if nothing happened. Dean knows better when it comes to his inner workings, but it never ceases to amaze him. “It comes naturally.”

“Why should I go home, Cas?”

“I dunno… Familiar surroundings. Food in the fridge. Clothes?”

“Do you want me out of your hair?”

“What?! No!”

He regrets asking it the moment he hears the genuine panic in Cas’ voice and raises his hands in reassurance, wanting to cup Cas’ face, but deciding on resting them on his knees instead. The days ahead are going to be tough on everyone, but Cas… Cas is going to need someone there, which is why it never even crossed his mind to return home.

“I can make a stop, if that sets your mind at ease, and park Baby on your driveway. But I’m not leaving you during… this.” He waves a hand at the muted screen. “Someone has to stop you from watching this shit anyway.”

Cas squints at the images on the television, nodding slowly. “Probably not wrong. Bring Jack with you.”

He chuckles, reaching for the remote to kill the infernal device. “I’ll go after dinner, alright? I brought leftovers.”

This gets Cas’ full attention. “Hmmm?”

“Mexican lasagna, which I’m going to assemble now and pecan pie for dessert.”

Cas lets out a long, pleased sigh. “That sounds lovely.”


	2. March 19th 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Okay. Want to go for a walk?”
> 
> His blue eyes flick to the window. It’s sunny outside in a deceptively cheery serving of irony. Though Dean supposes it beats dreary rain.
> 
> “But we’re not supposed to.”
> 
> “We’re allowed. Physical activity is encouraged, remember?” He tries to keep a rein on his gutter mind, failing partly, but thankfully it misses its mark by a few miles. “And if a cop pulls up, I can charm the pants off of him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 3, 4 and 5 are in the making, the first two as good as done.
> 
> **Be advised, I'm taking people's input for this story. If you have snippets, experiences or details you'd like to see added, feel free to share them and I will do my best.** The addition of Adam, as a college student affected by the measures in place, was offered by one of my friends, [a_wake_of_vultures](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_wake_of_vultures/profile).
> 
> Next chapter is tomorrow. I am attempting to make this a daily thing, but not sure how that's going to go.
> 
> Until then, hope you're safe and got some decent self care going. Drink water, take your meds, reach out to a loved one.  
> Love,  
> Mal

Dean scoots around on the floor, until his butt touches the wall and his legs are pressed flush to it, creating a pleasant stretch in his hams. Rolling his shoulders, he rests his arms to his side, letting gravity do its work. When he made the run to get Jack, he also packed a duffel full of clothes, a box with the contents of his fridge, his pull-up bar, workout mat and kettlebells. The latter two have been put to good use in the past half hour.

Jack, the cactus, is now in the middle of the kitchen windowsill, soaking up sunlight.

Dean’s phone rings, cutting through the music he’s playing in his ears, and he scrambles to pick up. “Heya, Sammy. How are you?”

“Sorry I didn’t pick up earlier. I was on a jog.”

“Of course you were,” he huffs.

“Don’t tell me you’re just holed up in your apartment?”

“I’m actually at Cas’ place. I was here when the lockdown was announced."

"You are? Oh, that’s… good. Right?”

“Yeah, it is. He’s working right now.”

Cas is in his office, headphones on, getting work done. For all that the world’s coming to a churning halt for a lot of people, Dean’s relieved Cas has at least that certainty. 

“How are you and Gabe?”

“We just stocked up, but it was… touch and go. And our online order got cancelled, because they can’t keep up.”

“That was bound to happen.”

“And Gabe’s stuck in a fifty percent work from home rule, even for non-critical personnel, which irks him to no end. He feels it’s putting people at unnecessary risk. Oh, and Adam called.”

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah, but it looks like his classes might become online lectures rather than being fully suspended.”

“For what we’re paying, I should hope so.”

“Maybe, but he still sounded worried.”

“Well… It’s a lotta change in a short span of time. I’ll give the kid a call tonight.”

Sam sneezes loud enough for him to wince and pop the earbud out for a moment. It takes him a few seconds to reconnect.

“Dean, you still there?”

“I am. Fucking hell, Sammy,” he grunts. “Please tell me you didn’t catch it.”

“Oh, please, you sound like everyone at work.”

“You work at a fucking hospital. Damn you and your lot’s weird sense of humor.”

Sam laughs. “Comes with the territory. It’s just a sneeze.”

“Sam… I’m serious. This is no time to act all tough. You’re a friggin’ nurse, you’re at risk on the daily.”

“Act all tough…? Rich coming from you, jerk.”

He pushes himself up on his elbows. “Bitch, don’t make me drive over.”

Sam sounds so smug, it’s like talking to his sixteen year old self all over again. “You’re not allowed.”

“Technically I am allowed. And even if I weren’t, I would.”

“Well, don’t,” Sam snaps. “Because you’re right. I am at more risk of catching it, so just stay the fuck away. I don’t need to put you or Cas at risk. His anxiety would go through the roof.”

Dean hums in agreement. “What’s the protocol for you guys? Just curious…”

He can almost see Sam’s eye roll as he prattles it off. “In case of potential contraction of the virus, we get tested and our blood’s analyzed with priority, while we stay in isolation until further notice.”

“So shouldn’t you ask for that?”

“You know I have allergies and it’s spring. I have no fever, I just ran 5 miles without issue. I’m fine. I already have Gabe on my back. I don’t need you to break out a ladder and join him.”

“Okay, okay, fine. Just… Fucking promise me, Sam. Because I don’t need more on top of what’s already going to shit.”

He hears the sharper inhale on the other end. “Did you file for the support money?”

“I still need to get to that.”

“Well, do you need help? I know you hate paperwork.”

“I got it, Sam. Now promise.”

“What are we, five?”

“No, I’m thirty, you’re twenty-six and I’d like the counter to keep going for several more decades, so promise me you’ll follow fucking protocol.”

“I will! Jeez, you’re a goddamn pitbull when you’re worried.”

“Damn straight. You’re welcome.”

“Sure thing. I have to get ready for my shift and I still need a shower.”

“No more showers at work?”

“Surprisingly protocol,” Sam bites.

He chuckles. “Alright, go kick ass, Sam. Stay safe.”

“You too.”

He tilts his head at the upside down open door, when he hears yet another explosive huff, breaking the silence. He rolls his hips, putting pressure on his ass cheeks. When his hip finally pops, he sighs and puts his feet to the wall, pushing off, worming himself higher on the mat until he’s fully horizontal once more. In one swift move he rolls on his side and to his knees, curling his feet under his ass.

He casts a worried glance towards Cas’ office. From here he can’t see him.

Cas is restless. Dean thinks he’s very much like a cat. They’ve joked about it. Touch is a no go, unless he decides otherwise. And he has this thing he does where he stares at Dean, like he’s thinking too many thoughts at once or trying to discern what’s going on in Dean's head, only to then abruptly look away and refocus on something with zeal. Under the current circumstances, Dean suspects Cas is in fact on the wrong side of the door all the time.

On the daily, he’s an introvert. Now that he’s not allowed out, of course he gets restless.

Whether that is directly tied to the fact that there are now _less_ people outside, he isn’t sure. His eyes track Cas walking from his office to the kitchen and into the living room for the umpteenth time today, promptly losing track of why he’s doing it and standing around, at a loss.

He finds his way to Dean, grumbling all the way.

“I… I hate this! The translation isn’t cooperating one bit. And the story I was asked to write neither. Everyone’s being an utter dick.”

Dean blinks through a goofy smile. He quite likes the pottymouth Cas is developing.

“Was that Sam on the phone?”

“Yep. They’re doing fine, though I may have gotten on his case to make sure he takes possible symptoms seriously.”

“Dean, Sam’s the healthiest of all of us. I’m sure he can be trusted to take care of hims…” Cas falters and his face scrunches up adorably. “On second thought, I see your point.”

“I knew you would. And I gotta call Adam tonight.”

“I’ll help you remember.”

Dean smiles. “Is there anything I can do to make it easier on you?”

Cas’ expression softens and he looks at Dean, genuinely focusing on something for the first time since they got up this morning. Considering it’s now late afternoon, that’s saying something. Dean slept on the couch, despite Cas’ insistence his bed was big enough. It is. That’s not the point. The boundary he maintains is as much for his own sake as Cas’. He doesn’t trust himself not to cuddle up with Cas during the night and has no idea how that would go over.

“No… I mean. Maybe. I can read you the story, but my head hurts right now.”

“Okay. Want to go for a walk?”

His blue eyes flick to the window. It’s sunny outside in a deceptively cheery serving of irony. Though Dean supposes it beats dreary rain.

“But we’re not supposed to.”

“We’re allowed. Physical activity is encouraged, remember?” He tries to keep a rein on his gutter mind, failing partly, but thankfully it misses its mark by a few miles. “And if a cop pulls up, I can charm the pants off of him.”

Cas snickers, raking his hands through his hair as he rolls his eyes. “Oh, please…”

“I can!” he insists, as he gets up.

“I know you can. Just please don’t, is what I’m saying.”

He cocks his head to the side, a hand on his hip, while he tugs at his t-shirt with the other to let some air in. He’s oddly curious about Cas’ soft shyness around the subject. “So, shall we?”

With a sigh and a last glance around his living room, he nods. “Maybe we can pick up some medication preventively? You said you weren’t feeling well earlier this week.”

“I just had some trouble breathing, Cas.”

“All the same, I’d feel better knowing we have some symptomatic medication in the house.”

“Okay, sure, I give in.”

“Good.”

Steel spine.

Dean freshens up in the bathroom quickly, because now that the decision’s made, he knows Cas wants to go. He throws on a fresh Henley and joins him at the front door.

“Is it warm outside?”

“It should be,” he nods.

“Mmh,” Cas mumbles. “Just the coat then.”

Always the coat, regardless of season or time of day, Dean thinks on a smile. Once outside, he goes to grab his sunglasses while Cas just soaks up the sunshine for a moment. Cas’ house is on the corner in a suburban district, which makes it the only one in the street to be detached.

“Left or right?” Cas asks.

“Left,” Dean says, “It’ll take us past town to the park.”

"First the meds."

It’s strange outside. For all the effort the sun’s putting in, it feels like a lovely spring day. _'It's the end of the world as we know it'_ is playing in the back of his mind.

The pharmacy's garage door is open, a makeshift counter with white sheets thrown over drawing their attention. They slow their pace, Cas stepping closer to read the sign they put up.

"Dear client, if you're experiencing any of the following symptoms, sneezing, coughing, trouble breathing, please ring the door bell above our mailbox, left of the entrance, and someone will come out here to help you. Thank you for your understanding and keeping each other safe."

"Well, we don't, so we can go in, if we want to."

Cas eyes the pharmacy unsurely. There's no line, but there are a few people inside. Dean doesn't even bother to offer the alternative and walks up to the main entrance, ringing the bell, before Cas can take more time overanalyzing the situation. The pharmacists inside are all wearing mouth masks and gloves. One of them shows up from the back of the garage soon enough.

After some back and forth, they walk away with a big box of paracetamol and an effervescent to ease lung issues, the latter at Cas' insistence.

“There are still a lot of cars on the road,” Cas comments. “And cyclists.”

He shoves his hands in the deep trenchcoat pockets, glaring at the humans around him.

“Less than normal though, I think?” Dean says. “Considering the time we should be seeing a traffic jam right now.”

Cas scoffs gently. “This is working wonders for the emission reduction.”

"Hey, maybe some good comes out of this once it's under control and more people will actually get to work from home."

"Who knows? That'd be unusually efficient..."

Whenever they come across other people, it seems to be a hit or miss in terms of distance. A few of their fellow humans cross the street as soon as they spot them. Others pass them by with a peculiar smile on their face. Whatever dogs are being walked don’t give a shit. They come to the crossroads that lead into the town center and stare down the wide street. Some stores are ignoring the directive to close, so they take a wide berth around those into the park.

“I’m surprised there are so many people outside.”

“People need to walk their dogs… and want their fresh air, even if it’s just half an hour. So long as everyone keeps a sensible distance.”

Which he and Cas are decidedly not doing, but hey… there’s an exception for those who share a household. And doesn’t that realization make him feel all fuzzy inside?

They wander into the park, the blossoming trees catching oodles of sunlight. There isn’t a cloud overhead, which has him herding a hopelessly distracted Cas by adjusting his proximity to him on instinct.

“What does full lockdown mean?”

The question takes him off guard and he sighs. “Cas…”

“Humor me, Dean, please.”

Dean grunts, scratching the back of his neck. Cas is looking at him with those gorgeous eyes, widened in uncertainty, laced with a trust he isn’t sure he deserves, because what the hell does he really know? Just because John Winchester was a doomsday prepper while he and Sam were growing up, doesn’t mean Dean really knows jackshit about anything, though everyone around him insists otherwise.

“It basically means you’re not allowed outside unless for health emergencies. If you go to work, your boss needs to sign off on it. So not a problem for you, since you work for the best boss there is.”

Cas smiles sweetly, but it doesn’t light up his eyes the way it usually does. “But what about you?”

He shrugs. “All bars and restaurants closed until further notice. I have to apply for the compensation and…”

His voice peters out, because holy shit, does he not like thinking about this. Everything he’s worked for the past ten years risks being swallowed up whole by quicksand. He wants to blame the government and in part, he does, because they didn’t do enough soon enough, thereby risking the working class, as per usual.

“And?” Cas prods gently.

“That’s it,” he says, looking away when a lump forms in his throat. The Roadhouse is his dream. This stupid disease, which is little more than a flu for people who aren’t at risk, has the balls to threaten everything he’s worked for his whole life.

“Dean…”

“It’s alright, Cas. No need to get ahead of ourselves and besides, it ain’t about me. It’s about your worries. And the collective, I guess,” he adds grumpily.

“You must be the only person I know who’s so empathic and pissed off about being so empathic at the same time.”

“Yeah, well, people are crazy.”

“True, if some of those videos from the stores are anything to go by.”

Dean squints at him. “Do I need to rescind your YouTube privileges to get you through this?”

It’s rich, because he’s been listening to the parliament live broadcasts via his earbuds while Cas was in the shower and working. Politicians endlessly droning on and rehashing the rules, defending their choices to one another and assuring the populace there are mitigating measures in place for those who are temporarily laid off, which – guess what – are all paid for by those very same tax payers. He double-checked his savings in the wake of that, though the bank app was having some issues too.

The numbers no longer carry much meaning within the surreal context, but he tells himself he can get through this.

“No,” Cas snaps testily, forcing his attention back to him. Cas softens immediately as he looks up at the skies, eyes catching on the leaves in the wind. “I just hope people come to their senses soon. I get it… Toilet paper is like gold, but it won’t stop the virus.”

“Mmh,” Dean mumbles, “I dunno, man, I’d prefer not to have to use your books if push comes to shove.”

Cas glares so intensely at the blasphemy, Dean balks a bit and clears his throat on what he hopes is a disarming laugh.

“I will figure out how to make fucking paper myself before I let my books be used for that. I trust people will get a damn grip. This isn’t tenable otherwise.”

_Yeah,_ cursing suits him.

“Incidentally, Cas, you must be the only misanthrope I know who also has such faith that humanity will step up. I don’t get it.”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Dean makes his ‘Iunno’ sound at him, shrugging with his hands in his pockets, as he moves closer to Cas.

“It’s because of you in my life, Dean.” Cas hums, suddenly getting all cute and awkward. He gets moving again. “People like you in my life, who prove on the daily how good humans can be.”

His mind comes to an interesting, lovely, quiet halt for a few intense heartbeats as his eyes catch on Cas’ form, moving away from him.

_Sonova… What?_

Surely not, he thinks, as he catches up, boots scraping on the gravel path. “You talk as if you’re not one of us… which I guess maybe you aren’t?”

Cas blinks, looking at him through his dark lashes. There’s a soft pink tinge to his cheekbones. The sun’s working its wonders. “Excuse me? I assure you I am quite human.”

“Figure of speech, Cas. God, how do you language so well and miss that. It’s adorable.”

Cas squints at him cutely, mutely pressing for clarification, but Dean feels he opened his mouth and shoved his foot in, because Cas doesn’t really need to know.

“Indulge me. Why would I not be human?”

“In the poetic way. You know I’m not good with this…”

“Try? For me?”

“Angel…”

He inhales sharply, the nickname he’s had in his head for Cas as good as a confession. Cas’ eyes widen, though he can’t quite tell if it’s surprise or terror, because his blood is humming in his ears like mad. “Uhhrrm, your granny… you say she calls you angel, right? That’s maybe what I mean… What it feels like…”

_Ever since I met you_.

Cas tilts his head at him. “Do I look like I play the harp?”

“Nah, you’re just hiding your wings and halo, I’m sure.”

Cas laughs, that high, warm sound that belies his deep voice by a few miles, and makes his whole body ripple like water.

“Of all people to be quarantined with, I’m glad it’s you, Dean.”

Which makes the space around his heart warm up, like melted chocolate with cream, thick and rich and oh, so tasty, his mouth is watering, but for entirely different reasons. They walk for another hour, until he can tell by the way Cas moves that the mental cobwebs have gone and his own body’s soaked up the sunlight to alleviate some of the weight he’s carrying around.

There’s still Mexican lasagna and he’s intending to make a food run tomorrow. Fill up Baby’s trunk. He’s glad he gave Cas his old freezer. The thing’s so sturdy it can withstand a nuclear attack and big enough to get them through a fair few weeks.

They make their way back to Cas’ home.

“Dean?”

Cas’ voice has that edge to it, the one that tells him he’s not getting away with something and Cas doesn’t intend to let him think otherwise.

He keeps his own tone even, innocent almost, as he watches Cas unlock the door and they make their way inside. “Yeah, Cas?”

Suddenly he’s all but pinned between Cas, boxed in by his arm holding onto the open front door and the door itself behind him. All without actually touching.

Social distancing, anyone?

“Don’t think I’m not aware of your plight.”

His breathing’s a touch faster, for reasons he can’t fully identify. He’s leaning into Cas, which, no, don’t, so he catches himself and nods, as he licks his lips, feeling thoroughly confused.

“I… I know you are.”

Cas holds his gaze for a while longer, as if trying to gauge him and his skin tingles all over. “Okay, good. I’m hungry. Tell me what to do?”

“Can do.”

Angel, he almost adds.


	3. March 20th 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dean!” Cas plants his feet wider, hands on his hips.
> 
> “Cas,” he acknowledges dryly, as he crosses his arms, cocking his head.
> 
> They glare at each other for a good while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meet Claire. A thank you to both my godchild for actually adopting a tripod cat two days ago and [a_wake_of_vultures](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_wake_of_vultures/profile) for asking for a Claire cat to go with cactus Jack.
> 
> Sentences I never thought I'd write in my life.
> 
> Incidentally, I've been doing iterative drawing on my Ipad to get the mileage in, which resulted in a Dean and Cas pose study. Results for [Dean](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/689944067823501463/690107743025364993/image0.jpg), [Cas](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/689944067823501463/690107743679283271/image1.jpg) and the [combo](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/689944067823501463/690108604807774219/image0.jpg). Do not expect massively clean lines or anything from me at this stage. I am just getting in my practice.
> 
> Next chapter up tomorrow!
> 
> Thank you for your kudos so far *smiles* I hope the story brings some joy.
> 
> READERS: if you have any requests, toss them my way.
> 
> Hope you're safe and sound and sufficiently occupied.
> 
> Love, Mal

Cas is impressive when he’s pissed off. Hot too, which is the worst motivator for Dean and also hella distracting.

“Dean, I want to join.”

He pries his eyes away from the stubborn set of Cas’ cut-like-glass jawline, only to get caught on his lips. _Fuck._ He has a valid, good point here. Focus.

“They’re being anal about how many people they let into the store at a time. One person per a hundred square feet, remember?”

“But what if people start fighting over toilet paper?”

Dean merely cocks his eyebrow, shooting Cas a wicked grin. “In that case, you probably need to worry more about the other guy.”

Cas squints at him, bristling. “Yes, alright, hotshot, I know you’re quite capable and I’m sure it’ll have lesser creatures swooning. I’d just prefer it didn’t come to that.”

He grins at the swooning remark, trying to read Cas’ face, but irritation at being excluded from the food run dominates his body language. Dean’s adamant though, so he juts his chin out.

“Same, which means you’re staying put, because I don’t need you anywhere near those kind of Mad Max shenanigans.”

“Dean!” Cas plants his feet wider, hands on his hips.

“Cas,” he acknowledges dryly, as he crosses his arms, cocking his head.

They glare at each other for a good while. He starts talking the moment Cas takes a breath.

“It ain’t happening. We can go for another walk later, if you want to get out of the house.”

Cas presses the back of his hand to his forehead. “That’s not – what this – is about. You’re vexing me, you know that?”

“Won’t stop me from going shopping or making my way back here.”

“It fucking better not.”

He guffaws, which makes Cas’ eyes flash darkly, so he hightails it out of there, quickly stepping into his boots as he throws on his leather jacket.

*

Okay, so maybe Mad Max was exaggerated. There’s not nearly enough chrome or fire involved, though he catches several people who seem to have some ‘witness me’ energy clinging to them. There’s a line forming outside and they let people in one by one, to ensure they don’t go over capacity. A few of them are wearing mouth masks.

It’s mainly the empty shelves that provoke an odd sense of detachment. Like he isn’t all here or this world doesn’t feel real anymore.

Why do people buy fucking flour in bulk? What’re they gonna do… Bake the virus into submission?

He watches one lady maneuver three carts at the same time: one stacked with toilet paper, another with water, and a third with food. When he rolls his cart past her, she glares at him, huffing angrily about distance.

“Excuse me?!”

She handles her cart roughly, planting herself between her loot and him. “You got the memo, didn’t you? Keep your distance.”

“Same way you got the damn memo about not fucking hoarding! Clearly!”

Fuming, he’s halfway through lining up the best way to chew her out further, when one of the shop employees intervenes, visibly uneasy at getting in between his 6 foot frame and a woman about to blow her top.

With a grunt, he steps back, pushing his cart further, and double-checks the grocery list on his phone so he can eavesdrop in case it turns ugly. A text from Cas distracts him momentarily and has him frowning at his phone.

**> > Can you bring cat food, please? Dry and wet. Litter too. I have a box that’ll do. I’ll explain when you’re home. Thank you. x**

_Now what?_

The conversation between the employee and the woman goes surprisingly smooth. He doesn’t know how the guy does it, but he’s relieved either way when the woman sheepishly starts returning some of the bulk from her carts to the shelves. When he looks at her, he’s torn between anger and empathy. When everyone starts buying like an idiot, it’s hard not to follow suit and he has no knowledge of her personal situation. Though a cart of toilet paper implies a helluva lot he has trouble believing.

“Look, sorry, lady,” he says grumpily. “Not sure what provoked that.”

In fact, he has a fair idea. He and Sam had to hustle way too often, while their dad was holed up in the basement or drinking away his sorrow in a bar. It was always all or nothing with John Winchester, and his sons most often got the ‘nothing’ end of that deal. He’s grateful Adam was spared most of that before he stumbled into their lives.

She shakes her head, looking away. “I… It’s alright. This virus has my knickers in a thousand twists. I had to force myself to come out here. It feels like I’m in one of those B movies…”

“Because we kinda are,” he mutters. “I get it.”

Her eyes suddenly brim with tears and he wants to reach out. It’s instinctual, the need to comfort, but he realizes he can’t and she seems to catch it, a weak smile tugging at her mouth. She sniffles and blinks the tears away. “God, I haven’t cried in years. This is ridiculous.”

“No, it isn’t,” he assures her. “Just because I’m not part of the people at risk doesn’t mean it ain’t scary. Same goes for you, without wanting to make assumptions.”

“I am not at risk, I know I’m not. Doesn’t change any of this,” she says, as she waves at the empty shelves around them.

“Nope.” He rocks back on his heels, unsure what to say next and acutely aware that they’re on the clock. “How… How about we finish our shopping like normal and get back home, huh?”

“Yeah, shit,” she mutters, pulling out her phone. There’s a timer running on it. “I got ten more minutes. Thanks... For, you know, not being a dick about this.”

He shrugs on a smile. “That’s alright. Take care.”

The rest of his shopping trip is pure efficiency: frozen veg and meat, two packs of toilet paper, a bunch of fruit, coffee (oh, god, they still have coffee), fruit juice and some canned basics, like tomatoes and beans. It isn’t high end food, but then The Roadhouse doesn’t serve that either. He passes by the book department and, getting antsy at not being able to make up his mind, grabs a small, vintage-looking poetry booklet, which he’s sure Cas doesn’t have yet.

He gets in line at the cash register, leafing through it, until it’s his turn and he can go home.

*

When he gets back, Cas is doing yoga in front of the television, which, helloooo, he did not expect to come home to. He can get behind the sleeveless shirt, pulled taut across his upper back. And even more behind the orange shorts, which, though debatable in color, show off Cas’ ass wonderfully. So, predictably, he falters in the doorway, one shopping bag hanging off each shoulder and an overflowing box pressed precariously to his hip with one arm. His free hand hangs limp from the doorknob, keys jangling in the lock.

His lips move, though whether in stupefaction or a genuine attempt to produce words of appreciation, he never finds out, because Cas follows the lady’s soft-spoken, deep Texas drawl example and turns on the balls of his feet. Cas’ face lights up when he sees Dean, as he stretches his arms, muscles rippling gloriously. It jolts him back into moving. He returns what he can only hope to be a convincingly normal smile.

“Hey! You look.. umm, zen.”

“I don’t know about that, but it’s got my blood flowing,” Cas says.

He can think of a few other things to get Cas’ blood flowing.

“And it kept me distracted. How are you? That’s a lotta stuff.”

“Only what we put on the list,” he says, moving towards the kitchen.

Cas makes to step off the mat, so he waves a quick hand. “Nu-uh, you’re doing a thing. Do the thing. I got this.”

“I can help.”

“Didn’t you once tell me you have to finish these exercises for the full flow of it?”

“I… did.”

Cas squints at him, shoulders already angling back to the mat. Shooting him a wink, Dean starts unpacking items, spreading them on the counter in logical groups, to make the process of putting them in the right cupboards quicker and easier. When Cas gets back to his yoga, he steals sneaky looks about, oh, every three seconds, because how can he not?

He’s amazed at the effect Cas has on him, equal parts soothing and enticing. To such an extent that, after he finishes storing the frozen stuff in the freezer, he’s just leaning on the counter, head propped up in his hand, watching Cas.

“Weren’t you going to call Adam again when you got back from the store?”

“Oh, sonovabitch,” he mutters, torn out of his adoring reverie.

He slams his hand on the counter, closing it around a stray plastic packaging he didn’t bin yet and moves towards the trash can like a man on a mission. Scrambling for his phone, he swears he hears Cas chuckle lowly, but by the time he turns around to check, Cas is rolling up his yoga mat, giving him an eyeful of his ass.

“Sweet fucking hell,” he grumbles, as he dials Adam.

“Uhh… Good afternoon to you too, Dean.”

“Adam! Hey, kid! I tried calling yesterday. Wanted to check in with you.”

“I had a late lecture and by the time I saw your missed call, I was too tired for much talking. Sorry.”

Adam’s tone refocuses him and he blinks a few times, gripping down on the phone harder. He leans his arm on the counter, settling his weight against it. “That’s okay, man. Weird times. How is it going over there?”

“All our classes are now online, which is hella weird, cause that basically means I’m in my pajamas all day.”

He chuckles, because shit if Adam isn’t a lot like him in many ways. “Hell, you’ll get no judgement from me, but maybe put on actual pants to go shopping.”

“Yeah,” Adam mutters mirthlessly. “I’ve had to go shopping nearly every day, because I just can’t get everything I need in one go.”

“People being dicks there too?”

“More like it’s just a few smaller stores and they don’t restock as easily, I think. And I’m not even intending to do more shopping than normal, you know? I just want my friggin’ noodles and candy bars.”

He grimaces. “I’ma wire you some more money after this call. Do me a favor and eat more than just noodles, okay? I know you’re on a budget, but come on, man, it ain’t that tight.”

That gets a snicker out of him and Dean smiles, heart clenching with concern. Adam’s not exactly an extrovert, but he isn’t an introvert either. Kid needs his people.

“How’s your roomie?”

“Michael? Like he was born for this. It’s weird, but he’s taking this really well and I guess he helps to keep me grounded.”

Dean’s gaze travels to Cas, smiling at the similar sentiment he experienced shortly before this call. That and he thinks he may have just won his bet against Sam. “That’s good. I’m glad you’re in good company.”

“Where are you? How’s Cas?”

Why do those two questions go hand in hand?

“I’m with Cas actually. Got caught in lockdown here and didn’t see any reason to go home.”

There’s a generous touch of mischief in Adam’s laugh. “I’m glad you’re in good hands too then.”

“Alright, kiddo, that’ll do. Are you keeping in touch with your friends?”

“Yeah, actually, we’ve got a DnD game setup for tonight over Discord. Everyone’s got time now.”

“Good, that’s good.”

“I’m glad I got to see you guys during Spring Break.” Adam’s voice sounds so much smaller and Dean wants to reach through the phone to hug him. “I don’t know when…”

“Hey, heyhey, it’s just a few more weeks until April 5th, right?”

“But what if they extend it?”

“We’ll join your DnD game or call you every day. We’ll get through this, Adam. You hear me?”

Dean jumps, when a hand wraps around his on the counter, and he looks up into sky-blue eyes.

“Cas,” he mutters.

“What?”

“Ca… Cas says hi,” he adjusts.

His gaze falls to the point of contact and he wiggles his fingers, a helpless, hapless, grateful smile forming.

“Tell him hi back. Is he doing okay?”

“Yeah,” Dean says, locking eyes with Cas. “I think he’s okay.”

Those glorious eyes turn to liquid pools of warmth as he nods in understanding.

Adam snorts. “He got the best deal.”

“How do you mean?”

“He’s the only one getting decent food throughout all of this.”

“Hey, Sammy’s a good cook.”

“Yeah, but _healthy._ ”

Dean throws his head back laughing. “Can’t argue with you there.”

“Tell me you didn’t leave Jack home alone?”

“Nope, I actually went to go pick him up. He’s right behind me on the windowsill, sunbathing.”

“Okay,” Adam chuckles. “Never thought I’d get attached to a cactus.”

“You and me both, kid.”

“Hey, umm… I’m gonna work on my paper and get some food in me before the game. Thanks for calling, Dean.”

“Always, kiddo. Stay in touch.”

He hangs up, letting out a long sigh.

“How was the store?”

“Fine,” he says instinctively. “I mean, lots of empty shelves, but I managed to get what we need or grab alternatives. There might be a few weird vegetable mixes in the freezer.”

“That’s good.”

He hums, sliding his fingers up and down in Cas’ palm gently, very much surprised Cas hasn’t broken the contact yet. Until he does, smoothly, not suddenly, so he doesn’t feel too crestfallen.

“Uhh… Cat food?”

“Right!” Cas says, brightening as he points at him. “We got a tripod kitty. Come on.”

“What the…?”

He follows after Cas, curious about the cat, but hopelessly distracted by his ass and thighs. Okay, so this lockdown might have certain side effects he didn’t account for.

“Well, I don’t know if she’s still here, but there was a cat mewling at the back door while you were away. A tortie.”

“Oh, so it’s a girl.”

“Huh?”

“Torties are always girls, right?”

Cas opens the back door and makes kissy noises. Dean giggles and covers his eyes with one hand, because he’s so desperately, foolishly smitten with Cas, he wants to fucking meow in response.

“Oh, there she is!”

Indeed.

A small, tortie cat with a tail that curls a bit at the end comes hopping over. She moves smoothly, despite only having three legs. Cas squats down, making cooing noises at her. Instantly, she bonks her head into his hand, stretching into the touch.

His nose tickles at the mere sight of her.

“Shit.”

“What?” Cas asks, looking up at him.

Oh, shit. He looks so happy.

“I, uhh, I’ll be right back.”

“Dean, what..?”

“I got allergies, man,” he says, waving a helpless hand at the little creature, twirling figure eights around Cas’ legs. “Which is fine, but I’m gonna need my Benadryl.”

“You… How come I’m only finding this out now?”

“The things you don’t know about people, I guess,” he shrugs.

“Or the weaknesses you hide.”

He shoots Cas a bit of a look at that. “It just never came up. But I see where this is going, so let me remedy it and we can get her inside.”

“Uhm, no,” Cas says. “I first need her checked out by a vet, in case she has fleas or other issues. Not sure how that’s going to go right now.”

“Same as doctors. They’re still working.”

The cat mewls, squinting up at them both sweetly. Cas scratches her on her head with one finger. “Okay… I’ll look up a vet and call them. You go get your meds then.”

He smiles at the little tripod cat, completely enthralled by her. "If I get to keep you, I'm calling you Claire. How does that sound?"

Claire mewls and licks at his fingers.

Fucking hell. Can these days get any stranger?


	4. March 21st 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The video call sound rings and she’s quick to pick up, but there’s a nauseating moment where the angle of her camera skitters all over the room. They hear heartfelt cursing and he’s pleasantly surprised by the depth of her voice. The camera settles on a lined, slender face with high cheekbones (so that’s where he gets them) and large, dark eyes. He can’t tell if her lashes are that dark or if she’s wearing make-up, but either way, that elegant, ethereal kind of beauty clearly runs in the family.
> 
> “Castiel, my angel, hello! But it’s good to see your face!”
> 
> Cas smiles, his face lighting up, though his eyes tear up a bit. Dean resists the urge to slide his fingers over his neck in a soothing gesture, though the warmth of him is right there. “Hi, granny!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meet granny Amara! Mind trigger warning for dementia.
> 
> This encounter is the reason this fic exists, which is entirely to blame on [this here post](https://www.instagram.com/p/B9xwriFn9rt/) by Misha.
> 
> I'm quite enjoying messing with Dean, to be honest. Poor sod. Next chapter incoming tomorrow.
> 
> Feed the muze in the comments? Thank you for joining!
> 
> As always, hope you're safe and sound. Have some water, eat some fruit (rich, cause I've been slacking) and share a (virtual) cuddle.  
> Love,  
> Mal

He’s trying to be quiet during his workout, but chin-ups tend to get his breathing ramped up. So he takes them slow, gaze focused on what’s quickly becoming the center of his very existence.

Cas.

He’s napping on the couch, because last night was a bad one. No particular reason for it, other than quite likely Cas’ brain trying to get a handle on the myriad of thoughts and emotions he’s going through on a daily basis, even with limited input from the outside world. Which resulted in a game of Smallworld in the middle of the night over a glass of whiskey.

And tipsy attempts to get Claire to come inside. The vet’s visiting tomorrow, which will consist of a car pulling up on the driveway and Claire being examined and treated outside. If she has a chip, the vet will take her with him. If not… Well, Jack has a sister.

Cas gets swallowed by the blanket, his mop of messy hair sticking out the end. If he squints, he can make out the top half of his face, his dark brows knit together even in sleep. There’s the softest hint of a snore, but it skates closer to adorable than annoying.

His fingers itch. It’d be lovely to be able to go over and curl up around him. Put his weight to good use to ground Cas. He tightens his grip on the bar and holds himself up, muscles trembling under the strain. Down. Up. Sweat’s trickling down his spine into the waistband of his slacks.

He’s pushing himself too far. His muscles are starting to burn, but he needs the outlet. Working in his restaurant, he gets more than enough exercise, running himself haggard. As pleasant as it is to be at home with Cas every day, they’re definitely over-eating (his own fault) and not getting in enough movement.

His mind goes on a happy tangent. People are joking about the amount of babies that are going to be born a good nine months from this lockdown. He quickly clamps down on his lizard brain, because Cas deserves better. He’s tired and anxious and doing his utter best to not let the outside world get to him too much.

That and right now, he looks absolutely adorable, like a giant blanket burrito.

Not his fault Dean’s completely lost on him.

He knocks his chin on the pull-up bar, when Cas lets out a panicked scream and tumbles off of the couch, jerking up out of his nap. With a vehement curse Dean lands on his feet and runs towards Cas, who is desperately trying to get out of his blanket.

“Whoa, Cas! Cas, Cas, Cas, you’re okay,” he says, as he falls to his knees next to him.

He starts to pull at the blanket, disentangling Cas, whose hands are already grabbing at him, sliding over his bare chest before his fingers dig into his arms. The touch, though accidental, leaves a blazing trail in its wake and he flusters for a few reasons at once.

“Shit, Cas, I’m all sweaty. I’m sorry.”

“Dean?”

Cas blinks blearily, his hair an utter, delightful mess. This time, Dean’s unable to stop himself from carding his fingers through it to smooth it out. Cas doesn’t seem to mind. His breathing is coming faster than normal, so Dean zones in on that.

“Look at me, Cas. You okay?”

He puts two fingers to the inside of Cas’ wrist and counts. Blue eyes soften immediately, though the knit brow remains.

“I… Yes. Bad dream.” He shakes his head, eyes closed, one hand dropping away.

“Do you remember it?”

“Yes,” he bites, brow furrowing further. “About my grandma. That she got ill.”

Dean hums, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles on the inside of his arm. Cas’ eyes fall to the point of contact bemusedly. It seems to work.

“Remember I visited her last week?”

“Yep,” he nods, voice a bit tight.

“After that rush at the shops. There were so many people. Who knows if I was near anyone…? I don’t care about me , I’ll be fine, but she’s ninety… What if…?”

“Cas, sweetheart, you work from home. You’re not showing any symptoms now, so the chances you caught anything are slim.”

“But what if I carried it… She’s at risk.”

“Okay, I hear you. Would it make you feel better if we called her?”

Cas’ eyes catch on his chest, tracking the tattoo under his collarbone. He just sits there for a few blessed moments, fidgeting with the sleeve of his sweater. Dean wants to reach out and touch him more, but Cas is so sensitive to it he doesn’t risk it. Sensitive in ways, Dean has yet to figure out, even after all those years. Sometimes, Cas gets cuddly, but not overly so. Like a cat. When Dean keeps his distance, Cas seeks him out more. When Dean seeks him out, it is often hit or miss, and he hasn’t been able to apply any logic to it.

“I… Yes, that’s a good idea. You think they’ll take calls?”

“You got her a smartphone for Christmas, Cas. Do you think we can try a video call?”

“Right!” His face brightens, his fingers snapping energetically. “Woman’s relentless in her insistence to wrangle the thing into obedience.”

He chuckles. “Alright. Where’s your phone?”

Cas reaches over his shoulder and Dean closes his eyes against the proximity of him. The graze of the sweater on his skin is tempting and all too brief. Cas smells so good, he feels like a sweaty disgrace in comparison.

“Let me… put on a shirt first.”

Cas doesn’t even look up from his phone. “She won’t mind.”

Dean opens his mouth to say something, because it’s all too casually observant to be a joke, right? Instead he wanders to the couch and grabs his shirt, putting it on.

He’s as close to grandma Amara, as if she’s his own grandmother. In part because he grew up with Cas, but mainly because he’s heard Cas talk about her endlessly. Loving tales of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, cut diagonally, and fresh pork rinds, back when his granddad was still alive to mind the pigs. They spent endless summers at their farm, while Cas’ parents were working, and devoured their library.

Cas maneuvers himself out of the blanket, balancing on one socked foot cutely, and sinks back into the couch. He pats the spot next to him for Dean to sit. So he does, suddenly quite curious and maybe a touch nervous, without really knowing why.

The video call sound rings and she’s quick to pick up, but there’s a nauseating moment where the angle of her camera skitters all over the room. They hear heartfelt cursing and as ever, he’s surprised by the depth of her voice. The camera settles on a deeply lined, slender face with high cheekbones (so that’s where he gets them) and large, dark eyes. He can’t tell if her lashes are that dark or if she’s wearing make-up, but either way, that elegant, ethereal kind of beauty clearly runs in the family and remains strong well into old age.

“Castiel, my angel, hello! But it’s good to see your face!”

Cas smiles, his face lighting up, though his eyes tear up a bit. Dean resists the urge to slide his fingers over his neck in a soothing gesture, though the warmth of him is right there. “Hi, granny!”

“How sweet of you to call. How are you?”

“Well,” he says, as he angles the camera so they’re both in it. “The quarantine has been called, so we’re stuck at my place.”

Dean puts on his most charming smile, seeing Cas’ fond eye roll in the camera, and waves at her. “Heya, granny!”

“Oooh, hello, there, handsome!” His eyebrows shoot up, lips parted in surprise, and Cas lets out a soft sigh. Dean schools his features, smiling at her, as he tags along through her brain fog. “So you’re the one he’s always talking about? My, my, you weren’t lying, angel, he is devastatingly beautiful indeed!”

Cas’ laugh falters and he blushes to the roots of his hair and the tips of his ears. Dean’s heart leaps up at the implications, because he’s sat through these moments before, but this is a definite first. He casts a sly glance at Cas, who is focusing extra hard on his grandmother now. Isn’t that interesting?

“Hmm, yes, indeed,” Cas hums, clearing his throat. “How are you doing, granny?”

“Oh, you know how it is here. Everyone’s always fussing over us, but I can do what needs doin’ on my own, as you damn well know.”

“I know, granny, you’re strong as an ox.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Not in the literal sense,” Cas smiles.

Dean guffaws. “So that’s where you get it from too?”

“Get what from?”

He purses his lips, wondering if Cas is pulling his leg, but from the genuine curious expression on his face, that’s a no.

_How even?_

They hold eye contact in quiet bemusement for a bit, until granny’s voice cuts through the moment. Her eyes seem clearer.

“You two look so cozy together. I am happy for you both, my angel.”

“Ahhh,” Cas hums, looking back to her. It’s clear that he wants to correct her, but then doesn’t… know how? Or maybe… “I… Thank you? It is… quite cozy here, yes. Dean’s presence makes the chaos out there bearable.”

“Oh, you know you can bear a lot more than you think, angel. Strong as an ox, hmm?”

Dean rests his cheek against his knuckles, leaning his arm on the back of the couch behind Cas.

“I’m glad your grampa isn’t here to see this,” she says. “He’d be out there tellin’ everyone the Spanish flu was worse.”

“It was,” Cas says. “That’s what you get if you send home a bunch of soldiers after the war all across the continent.”

“Yes, but that’d be neither here nor there for the matter at hand, would it?”

Dean snickers. “Not wrong.”

“Young man,” she says, dark eyes zoning in on Dean. “Your restaurant…”

Why does everyone need to bring that up?

He feels Cas lean his weight into him, as he replies. “Hmm, yes?”

“It’s closed, I imagine?”

“Yep. I went with pick-up service for a while, but that’s not allowed anymore either and I’m too small to run a financially sound delivery service.”

“I’d order in a heartbeat. Your angel over there has been bringing me your food for years now.”

His insides swirl like crazy at the words. He’s also pretty sure he can see Cas’ blush in the damn camera.

“I’m glad you’ve enjoyed my cooking, granny,” he smiles.

“You bet, sweetheart. So whatever happens, know I’ve got you, alright?”

He stutters, breath petering out in a small wheeze. “I… am not sure what that means?”

“Oh, please, boy, I’ve known you too long for you to play dumb with me.”

Okay, fine, sure, he caught the intention behind her words, but…

“I don’t think I can accept that kind of help.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

He slams his mouth shut, balking slightly at the rather direct approach.

“Granny,” Cas intervenes. “It’s awfully sweet of you, but what Dean’s trying to say is that he doesn’t expect you to help?”

“Expectations, shmeckpectations. You worked too hard for too long to allow it to be taken from you. If it comes to the point where you need help to survive, you have mine. My money’s going to Cassie either way. Might as well go to you.”

“Cas,” he whispers through pursed lips. “What… What do I do with this?”

“Just smile and nod and roll with it. You know she won’t relent otherwise,” Cas whispers back.

“And don’t you worry about havin’ any kids, you hear me? There’s too many of us already.”

It’s Cas’ turn to stutter around a helpless, desperate laugh. “Ain’t that the truth, granny.”

Dean snickers. He can’t help it. He can feel the tension seeping out of both of them, as he tugs Cas towards him. He blissfully moves with it. “This is an out of body experience.”

“Welcome to my world.”

“I love it here.”

He listens to granny going on and on about some of her peers. They’ve lost one due to the virus and there are two more in intensive care. Her roommate, Lilith, however, is going strong and won’t shut up. She hates being cooped up in her room, so they promise to call her again soon.

“One more thing,” she says.

“What’s that?” Cas smiles indulgently as her wagging finger appears on screen.

“Screw convention, if you’ll allow it, cause your granddad and I would have missed out on a lotta fun with Rowena if we’d submitted to convention.”

“Holy shit, granny, can we…”

“Language, angel.”

“Seriously?” Cas hisses through gritted teeth. “That’s where we’ll draw the line?”

“I know you can curse in a good ten languages, but you know…”

“It’s good for what ails you though,” Dean grins.

“I’m sure, handsome. Promise me you two will take care of each other.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing all this time?” Dean winks at her.

“Cheeky bugger,” she laughs.

“We will, granny,” Cas huffs on a smile.

“And bring him over when all this is behind us. I want to hug that 6 foot frame to my bosoms.”

“Alright!” Cas exclaims, so flustered his hair’s starting to stand on end on its own. “Yes, I promise. All the things! We gotta go now. I love you, granny.”

“Love you too, angel.”

There is a glitter to her eyes Dean thinks isn’t at all the innocent, old lady vibe she seems to convey and then the screen goes black.

Dean’s in stitches, squeezing down on his ribs in the hopes of calming down, flopping sideways on the couch as he laughs. Cas shoves his socked feet into his thigh, sliding off to his ass, successfully pushing him off the couch and he lets it happen, giggling helplessly.

With a last few hiccups, he swipes both hands over his face and elbows his way back on, legs wide as his heels dig into the mat. He flops back down, making sure he’s a lot closer to Cas than before.

He sobers up, casting a keen eye on him. “Wait a minute… Your granny’s poly?”

“Of all the things to take away from that…” Cas smiles, as he shakes his head, some of the nervousness going out of him. Dean feels almost cruel for letting him think he got away with anything. “But yeah, she is.”

When he looks at Dean, he makes sure his face is saying a lotta things at once, probably best summed up as Blue Steel. Cas goes stiff, the blush he was coming down from deepening to his ears. “Oh, y… you’re joking.”

“Only partly. Woman still surprises me after all those years.” Dean leans in, lowering his voice and whispers. “Devastatingly beautiful?”

Cas whimpers, looking away, as he scratches idly at his scruff. “Dean… Please don’t tease me about this.”

Dean brushes his fingers to the back of Cas’ neck, his head swimming with the possibilities at his fingertips when Cas looks at him through his long, dark lashes. His heart might shatter. He never thought Cas could be into him, not like that.

He is everything Cas is not. A college dropout, who – until he and Cas got close – didn’t read that many books, simply because he didn’t quite know where to start. A clever mind, sure, but in that street-smart kind of way, only strengthened by the likes of John and the absence of their Mom.

It’s no wonder Sam and Cas get along so well, because they’re equally cerebral creatures and thankfully, Dean was able to get Sam through college, because that’s where the kid belonged. Much like Cas.

His eyes catch on the goosebumps that break out on Cas’ neck. Cas inches out of the touch, but towards Dean in the same moment, which is beautifully enticing. So sensitive.

“D… Dean?”

His voice trembles, but in that unsure kind of way that suddenly has him second-guessing himself. Vulnerable. Dean swallows hard, his teasing catching up to him at lightning speed, when he realizes he is a lot more affected than he bargained for. So he reels it in for both their sakes.

“I ain’t teasing, Cas, no worries. Just charmed you’d describe me that way.”

“O… Okay,” Cas mutters, tugging at his earlobe.

He all but scrambles for the remote and lifts it in mute question.

“Only if you steer clear of the news. I gotta take a shower anyway.”

Cas nods, eyes flicking from Dean’s face to the screen, as he licks his lips non-stop. Dean’s mouth goes dry and he bolts for the bathroom, turning the water to cold.


	5. March 22nd 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas sucks his thumb into his mouth, talking around it. “I’d like to adopt her.”
> 
> “I gathered as much,” the vet laughs, as he rises to his feet. “I have a booklet on me. You say she already has a name?”
> 
> Cas’ smile could power the Earth, Dean thinks, and all it takes is a small, tripod cat. He narrows his eyes at her.
> 
> You better not start stealing all of Cas’ attention.
> 
> “Claire,” Cas says. “Claire Novak.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping the world at large will remember its newfound appreciation for the ones who keep everything running right now, while many of us are sitting at home (either comfortably paid or under serious stress, but either way inside).
> 
> I'll reiterate you're welcome to drop me a snippet to incorporate in this story, if you feel like it.
> 
> I am also very tired for some reason.
> 
> Much love'n snoozy hugs,  
> Mal

The vet visit is going well. They’re standing in the doorway, looking on as he handles a very chirpy Claire. Her front paws are sticking out, claws extended and her tail is swishing slightly.

“Does she have a chip?” Cas asks, before going back to chewing his thumb nervously.

He’s already asked if she’s okay five times, earning fond looks from the vet. The vet shoots him another right now, who then looks to Dean meaningfully, as if he somehow has any say in or control over this. Dean cocks an eyebrow and shrugs lightly.

“He really wants to adopt her. She’s already got a name.” And suddenly he just wants to keep Claire, because Cas does. “Just… Just tell us she doesn’t have a chip, okay?”

The vet snickers softly. “My sister was right.”

When Cas doesn’t respond, Dean chases the curious remark. “How do you mean?”

“She mentioned the guys living in the corner house.”

“I...” He wants to say  _ ‘don’t live here’ _ , but it seems stupid, because right now he does and he doesn’t want to have to explain something that’s starting to be a moot point – as far as he’s concerned anyway. So he shifts gear halfway through the protest and grins. “Oh, yeah? What’d she say?”

“That you’re adorable,” the vet smiles. Dean’s cheeks heat up at the praise, which is all kinds of more stupid, Winchester stupid, and he avoids looking at Cas.

“Well, you’ll be glad to know she’s healthy. No bugs, but I treated her and…”

He brings out the scanner. Cas lurches forward, hissing when he rips off a piece of flesh next to his nail. Dean makes a sound of concerned protest when blood wells up.

“She’s not chipped.”

Cas sucks his thumb into his mouth, talking around it. “I’d like to adopt her.”

“I gathered as much,” the vet laughs, as he rises to his feet. “I have a booklet on me. You say she already has a name?”

Cas’ smile could power the Earth, Dean thinks, and all it takes is a small, tripod cat. He narrows his eyes at her.

_ You better not start stealing all of Cas’ attention. _

“Claire,” Cas says. “Claire Novak.”

Cas immediately starts moving the food inside, as he provides the vet the necessary intel. A litter box is already set up next to the floor to ceiling back window that looks out on his small garden.

The vet fills out the booklet and hands it over. “I will email you the bill, but she’s up to date on her shots now, so if all goes well, we won’t be seeing each other for a good while.”

“That’s the idea, right?” Dean says.

“Thanks for making a house call,” Cas adds, “I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. Take care, guys.”

*

Cas is pacing through the living room, knuckles white as he manages  _ not  _ to crush his phone. Gabe’s on speaker on the other end.

“What do you mean, symptoms? Which symptoms?”

“A cough and a mild fever, Cassie, that’s all.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“I won’t have to wear a tie for a week. This is excellent!”

“I blame that 50% rule your office set up. You aren’t critical personnel,” Cas hisses.

“Gee, thanks, Cassie.”

“That is not what I mean and you know it. But they’re not testing you?”

“Nope. Not at risk. At this rate, I’m part of the group immunity pack.”

“But…”

Gabe’s voice softens in ways Dean hasn’t heard often for as long as he’s known the man. “I’ll be okay, little one. Don’t fret.”

“I have a right to fret over my brother.”

“You do,” Gabe amends, “But it serves no purpose. If it’s a cold, I’ll be fine. If it isn’t… Well, I have my own personal nurse.”

There’s a comment in the background that doesn’t make it through, though it ends with ‘to the bed’, so it can’t be all bad. Cas chuckles at that and Dean watches him wipe his sleeve to the corner of his eye. His fingers itch.

“Okay,” Cas says, as he shakes it off. “What else is new?”

“Uhmm, did you hear about the white sheets or towels?”

“The what?” Dean mumbles.

“No, we haven’t.”

“Basically it’s a sign of gratitude to the medical and emergency personnel who keep working through this lockdown. Hang it out your window so they can see it from the road.”

“Just a white sheet?”

“Or write something on it, if you feel like it. A lewd joke maybe.”

“Let me guess… You did.”

“Of course,” Gabe laughs. “And below it, I asked them to honk the horn if it made them laugh.”

Sam’s voice comes through clearer. “People have been honking their horns all fucking day.”

Dean whistles to signal he’s there too. “You two going stir-crazy yet?”

“Not me,” Sam says. “I’m not sure if I’m happy to go to work or wish I was home more to help Gabe cope.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Dean quips.

Cas shoots him a twinkly smile that makes his insides swirl.

“I’m coping just fine,” Gabe mutters.

“Pick up a new hobby,” Cas says. “You’ve been wanting to try your hand at a few things for years. Now’s the time.”

“Yeah, but which one?”

“How much chocolate have you got in the house?”

Dean laughs. Gabe’s been wanting to try his hand at making pralines. Not all of the experiments he’s done so far were a success, but he’s got a knack for it. He’s curious, his taste buds are on point when it comes to sweets, and he’s willing to try the strangest things.

Gabe lets out a sing-song ‘ooh’. There’s a soft groan in the background. “You guys, he’ll ruin the kitchen.”

“But you’ll have sweets,” Cas smiles. “And a happy boyfriend.”

“Mmmh, fair point,” Sam mutters. “I’ll make another stop at the store after my shift. Text me a list, okay?”

Gabe’s confirmation gets muffled by a kiss from the sounds of it, which has Dean going equal parts ‘aw’ and ‘stahp’, though the latter has more to do with envy than anything else. He sighs, when his gaze gets caught on Cas’ face and he cocks his head, drinking him in on a sense of melancholy that’s entirely unlike him.

Yet here he is.

“Oh, by the way,” Gabe says. “Dean-o?”

“Yeah!”

“Your favorite theatre closed.”

“Aww, man… Come on, they probably won’t be able to afford it.”

“Hmm, they seemed hopeful in the message they put up. I’ll send you the picture.”

His phone dings and he pulls it up. There’s a picture of the marquee saying: WE LOVE YOU – WASH YOUR HANDS – BE BACK SOON. He scratches at his scruff idly, frowning. He and Sam have been going to that tiny theatre since childhood. He loves its old school vibe. Last time he was there he convinced the owner to give him a set of four of those cinema chairs, if he ever gets rid of them. He wants to set them up above the restaurant and offer a cozy cinematic dining experience.

It’s all kinds of wrong if the likes of the theatre has to close at the end of all this.

He sighs and saves the picture. “I’ma go hang one of those sheets up,” he mutters.

The curious look that Cas bestows on him makes his heart flip-flop. He flees in the spare downstairs bedroom, opening the drawers underneath in search of a white sheet. He digs up a red marker and writes a massive thank you on it, before heading upstairs.

“Hey, wait up.”

He glances over his shoulder down the stairs, Cas catching up to him.

“Oh, you found one,” he smiles.

“At the bottom. It’s a single sheet, so I figured I’d write on it.”

Cas hums as he grabs one corner of it to hold it up. “Is that a coronavirus bug you drew?”

“With X-ed-out eyes, yes.”

“Lovely,” Cas snickers.

Dean breathes in deep when they walk into Cas’ bedroom. The whole house smells like Cas, but the bedroom has that special fragrance to it. Sleep. Comfort. He wonders why he’s so sensitive to it, because it’s not like he hasn’t been here before. It’s not like he doesn’t know how good Cas smells either.

Shut up.

They open the window and slide the sheet along the width of it, ensuring it’s up the right way before closing it. For a while, they just stare out the window together, Cas’ hands on the windowsill, Dean leaning up against the wall with one arm.


	6. March 23rd 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grabbing blindly for the remote, Cas mutes the television and hands the booklet back. Dean frowns, taking it on instinct. "It's a gift, Cas. You keep those."
> 
> Cas rolls his eyes in response. "I know that. Read to me."
> 
> Dean hums in surprise.
> 
> "Please."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question is.. Is Cas teasing or not?
> 
> **Hey, give me a song Dean can croon along to in Baby? Pretty, please? *muah***
> 
> A short one, you guys, cause I'm doing so much at once, it's driving me to madness. Yet I persist. I almost forgot about what Dean bought Cas.
> 
> The poetry Dean reads was written by me. It's quick and sloppy, so don't sue if you hate it, alright? The third one is a shameless echo of "Risk" by Anaïs Nin.
> 
> If you notice inconsistences, call me out, yeah? (Also, the first bit wasn't beta-read, because last minute addition, so any mistakes are my own.)
> 
> Also, RooBear: your request will be up in two days ^^
> 
> Thank you if you're keeping track of these boys *smiles* your comments, kudos and time are, as always, appreciated.
> 
> *HUGS*  
> Mal

They’re on the couch, binge watching _That 70s Show._

“God, but Netflix’s offerings are slim these days,” he grumbles.

A hummed agreement is all he gets from Cas. They're both having a bit of a day today, though neither one of them is acknowledging it out loud. It hangs on the air. Which has Dean wracking his brain for something he can suggest. Or do. But it's late at night already.

He snaps his fingers and jumps up from the couch. "Oh, I forgot!"

"Hmm?"

Cas' face lights up with curiosity. He's pulled his hands into his sweater sleeves, rubbing them together soothingly.

"I brought you something," he says, grinning over his shoulder as he heads to the front door.

He plucks the booklet out of his jacket and jogs back to Cas, handing it over as he sits back down. "Poetry."

Catching on easily, slender fingers appear from the sweater sleeve to accept the little gift. Cas smiles at him. "You are."

"Pardon?"

Cas looks down at his hands on a sweet smile, furrowing his brow as he gingerly opens the book. Its cover is faux-leather with a small, magnetic latch. "When did you get this?"

"On the food run. Not sure if it's any good, but I just wanted to pick you up something."

Grabbing blindly for the remote, Cas mutes the television and hands the booklet back. Dean frowns, taking it on instinct, then wants to push it back into his hand. "It's a gift, Cas. You keep those."

Cas rolls his eyes in response. "I know that. Read to me."

Dean hums in surprise.

"Please."

A bit tacked on, that. He doubts, because yeah, sure, they both enjoy books a great deal and Dean sings in unguarded moments, but reading poetry to Cas...?

"I like the sound of your voice."

He shoots Cas a lopsided smile, a giddy feeling erupting under his sternum. It's a bit intense, riding the wave of his restlessness, but yeah, that'll do it. He gestures for Cas to settle in, but of course he already is, pulling a blanket around his folded legs. His hands vanish into the sleeves again. Dean pulls up one leg, tucking his foot under his thigh and angles towards Cas.

He flips it open to a random page and starts leafing until something catches his eye. The dim light forces him to hold it rather close to his face, but he doesn't want the glare of harsh light to disturb the comforting softness of the dark. They're short bursts of poetry mostly. He can't tell sometimes where one ends and the other begins, which seems fitting for this eternal last week of December vibe they're stuck in.

The back of his neck gets warm and it fans out to his face and chest, when he feels Cas' gaze on him. He casts a quick look up through his lashes, rewarded with another smile. He's so gone, he could vanish off the edges of the known universe, forever lost among the stars. This quarantine's making that painfully obvious and he wonders how he can return to normal after this. Whenever that is.

Is it wrong to wish for it to last?

"Okay... Here we go.”  
  


_I fall into your gaze  
_ _losing my horizon  
_ _every time you look away  
_ _like the fallen from above  
_ _unsure what is to come  
_ _only to have you cushion me_

The heat in his chest is worse than his blush. He hopes. Then Cas scoots closer and his toes touch Dean’s knee. Cas is leaning sideways, fatigue obvious in the way his shoulders slant, his edges softened in the dark of night. He hasn’t been sleeping right and for some reason, that results in Cas staunchly refusing to go to bed, as if the furniture itself is to blame.

After holding his eyes for a moment, Dean continues.

_And what can I do but surrender  
_ _my heart in my palms  
_ _here is the map  
_ _here is the knife  
_ _here is the balm  
_ _the choice is yours_

“Not very subtle, that,” Cas smiles.

“Not at all,” he agrees.

Yet apt.

He leafs further, feeling Cas’ toes wiggle, expressing his mute enthusiasm.

_There is that moment  
_ _where the risk  
_ _of drowning  
_ _hurts more_  
_than the risk_  
of diving in the deep end

He works his way through a few more, Cas seemingly turning to putty as he sinks deeper and deeper into the words. With every word for Dean though, something unforgiving churns more restlessly around his own heart. Ironically it seems to be feeding into his agitation and it has him squirming a lot more than he should. Cas presses harder into his knee on the regular, because he’s picking up on it.

Cas starts actually nodding off, so at least it is working wonders for him.

“You sure you don’t want to go to bed, Cas?”

He jerks upright. “Nu-uh. Keep reading?”

Dean fidgets with the book, trying to find another poem. One that won't tear at his insides.

They hear soft, crunching sounds and crane their necks to try and see. Claire has been inside to eat, but so far refuses to come much further than the hallway. Dean can see her Gollum eyes staring at them, before she turns away, despite Cas’ sweet kissy noises. It’s a good thing it’s relatively warm outside, though they’ll need to close the door during the night.

“Cas, are you sure sure?”

Okay, so it’s definitely his turn to suffer. Hey, he's been doing good so far...

Cas frowns at him, the flickering light of the television playing across his features. “I am.”

Dean huffs and scoots around. Maybe he soaked up Cas' disquiet? He’s uncomfortably warm and he doesn’t know how to remedy it.

“Dean, you’re…”

“I know,” he grunts. “Sorry.”

Cas stares at him, his expression unreadable, or maybe his brain isn’t equipped to handle interpretation right now, too busy being frantic.

Suddenly Cas is moving.

He plucks the booklet out of Dean's hand with a sweetly muttered 'thank you, Dean', putting it aside on the coffee table.

He mucks around with his blanket.

And then he plonks his head in Dean’s lap, pulling the blanket up to his chin.

He rubs his cheek against his thigh, settling in deeper and there’s a mumbled question that Dean’s brain can’t quite process. Because yeah, this is helpfully distracting.

“Dean.”

His voice breaks. “What?”

“Are you warm enough?”

Oh, yeah, plenty warm. Oodles of warmth. Right there, low in his belly, because holy fucking shit, Cas…

He clears his throat. “Yeah, I’m okay, Cas. Just… Move for a sec.”

With the subtlety of a teenager about to get a hard-on (and he just fucking might at this rate), he picks up one of the softer pillows and puts it in his lap, gesturing Cas to lie back down. There’s a brief moment, where Cas looks at him, as if he might catch on and at this point, Dean wouldn’t care if he did, but then he settles back in.

And slides a hand under the pillow, grabbing his thigh.

He mutely mouths _‘sonovabitch’_ and bites into his knuckle. This is ridiculous. He’s Dean Winchester. He doesn't get all worked up over someone’s head in his lap. Not this kind of head, anyway.

His gaze drops to Cas, settling in with a few last squirms and nudges, until he lets out a long, pleased sigh.

But it’s Cas.

His Cas.

His heart is still beating wildly, but a sense of calm comes over him. He scoots around a bit and lets his left hand fall to Cas’ flank, cherishing the feel of him under his fingers.

And just like that his restlessness simmers down.


	7. March 24th 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Heya, kid!”
> 
> Adam literally groans in greeting. “Whyyyyy are you calling at this ungodly hour?”
> 
> Dean glances at his watch. It’s 2-fucking-pm. “I see your rhythm’s on point.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm growing fond of Adam and Michael.
> 
> Next chapter incoming tomorrow and I have at least 3 more chapters lined up. Depending on how much input you give me, they'll shift around a bit, but there is an endgame focus. (As promised.) And beyond.
> 
> Sat in the sun for an hour on the phone with a soulfriend yesterday. Cause no visits. It did me well.
> 
> Hope you can enjoy similar little things.  
> Love and hugs,  
> Mal

“Heya, kid!”

Adam literally groans in greeting. “Whyyyyy are you calling at this ungodly hour?”

Dean glances at his watch. It’s 2-fucking-pm. “I see your rhythm’s on point.”

There’s the sound of ruffling sheets and he swears he hears another grumble that’s much deeper than Adam’s, which has him gesturing excitedly at Cas and pointing at the phone.

Cas wordlessly goes ‘What?’ at him and he mouths ‘Michael! Bed!’ back, which has Cas grinning from ear to ear. Next thing, Cas shoos him from the living room into his office. When Dean doesn’t immediately comply, Cas plants his hands to his shoulder blades and bodily pushes him. He’s been up to something, Dean can tell that much, but given that the house is fairly open, he’s been sneaky about it.

Apparently he’s given up on that and instead resorts to chasing Dean. He balks lightly when Cas even pulls the door to the office shut. Upon looking around, he decides there are much worse places to be, so he sinks into Cas’ desk chair. His eyes track across the shelves covering the whole wall behind Cas’ desk, books as far as the eye can see.

His fingers itch to nudge the laptop and see what Cas is working on, but he doesn’t.

“Am I disturbing you?” Dean asks on a drawl.

“You? Pssht, never. What makes you think that? Nope, I’m fine.”

“No class today?”

“Mmmhnoes,” Adam mumbles, clearly settling back into the sheets. “It’s a right mess. I never knew I appreciated structure until now.”

“We all do,” he says. “We just like to pretend we don’t for the sake of rebelliousness, when the shit isn’t hitting the fan.”

“I resent being called a fake rebel.”

Dean laughs. “You’re all rebel, kid. I know.”

“Oh, hey, that reminds me. Cool if somewhat odd encounter last night.”

He doesn’t like how the conversation heaves like a sudden wave on the ocean. “What?”

“Cops tried to fine a bunch of us for being outside.”

Dean fights back the desperate groan that threatens to worm its way out. “What’d you do?”

“Tried. I didn’t say they managed. And I didn’t say they got me.”

“Adam…”

“Some of us were catching Pokémon.”

“They… You were  _ what? _ ”

He’s not sure whether to laugh or cry.

“Pokémon. This is a good time to be catching some of the rare ones on campus, because there’s no one around.”

“Duh, because you’re not supposed to be either.”

“No worries,” Adam says, voice smug. “We ran and made it back to the dorm before they could catch us. Kinda had to scale a few fences, but…”

“But you’re all tracours, I’m aware.” He rubs his fingers to his forehead, closing his eyes. “I see your sense of self-preservation lives up to the family name.”

Adam chuckles. “Aww, come on, Dean. We’re bored out of our skull. Online classes are the worst.”

“It’s better than having fuck all to do. Imagine where you’d be.”

“Jail?”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Hey, I saw the pictures of you and Sam.”

When and where did the runt get his hands on those?

“We didn’t have working older brothers looking after us,” he counters.

“Cool pic though.”

Dean guffaws, because he can’t fucking help himself. This is probably why he shouldn’t adopt anything besides a cactus. “It was, wasn’t it?”

“Sure was. Mmmh, fuck… My head hurts,” Adam complains.

“Drink some juice and have a decent breakfast. A  _ decent  _ breakfast, kid, you hear me? Have that natural apocalyptic survivor of yours cook you something up.”

Adam laughs loudly. There’s a warmth in his voice even without saying a word. Oh, Dean won the bet, alright.

“I’ll ask him.”

Dean grunts, because he’s quite certain Michael can fucking hear him, considering how close he likely is to Adam.

“Oh, and get this,” Adam adds, which makes Dean smile. “Our chem experiments? Yeah, we get to watch the teacher do them now instead of doing them ourselves… What? Yeah, I know we got most of the ingredients, man..  _ OH…” _

Hold on a damn minute. That is  _ it. _

“Michael!” Dean barks.

“Hey, how’d you know?”

He makes a face at that. Kid’s supposed to be smart, right?

“You’re in quarantine, you little jerks, who else is it gonna be? Unless you’re also disregarding that and having a room party,” Dean huffs.

There’s combined laughter now. “We’re not,” Adam says.

“Leave it to a bunch of uni kids to toss their skull, because they get bored,” he grumbles. He doesn’t remember Sam being this bad. Oh, wait… He was. “Do not do those experiments in your dorm kitchen.”

“I’m sure we could pull them off.”

“I’m not arguing that,” Dean says, “I know you can, especially between the two of you. It’s just that it might get you kicked out.”

“Not if it’s successful,” Adam sing-songs.

Suddenly Michael’s voice floats through. “He’s just yanking your chain, Mr. Winchester. He does that when he’s bored.”

“Dean,” he croaks out. “Call me Dean. I know he is. Well, I trust you both are.”

“Seriously,” Michael says. “We’re behaving. Mostly.”

Sassy little shit, Dean thinks. He likes him already.

“Anything you two need from us?”

“Nah, we’re okay. There’s a driveway cinema being organized off-campus to off-set the lack of.. everything else,” Adam says. “So we’re going.”

“Awesome,” Dean smiles. “Not a bad idea. Everyone’s in their car, but you’re still together.”

Maybe he should see if similar efforts are being made locally. He can take Cas.

On a date.

Wait.

There’s a knock at the office door. He nudges his foot to the ground, twirling the chair so it’s facing the door. “Come in,” he says lowly.

“Dean, what the hell?” Adam asks.

“Cas knocked.”

“Dean,” Cas smiles. “You’re good to come out. I’m done.”

He’s looking pink in the cheeks and his eyes are sparkling. Dean’s heart lodges in his throat. What could possibly merit that…?

“What are you up to?” he grins.

“A surprise. Not for today, but you’ll see.”

Dean pulls the phone from his ear, when he hears the mutual, taunting ‘oooohs’ on the other side. Gesturing at Cas, he raises his eyebrows. “You see what you’ve done? You hear that?”

“I hear nothing,” Cas grins and turns, leaving the door open.

He gets up and walks into the living room. Curiosity is making his nose twitch or maybe that’s Claire, but he can’t see anything different.

“Yeah, okay,” Dean grunts into the phone. “You kids done?”

Adam snickers. “Not by a long shot, but we’ll leave you two alone.”

“Yeah, good thing you two can’t experience pregnancy scares, but I’ll still ask you to be safe.”

Adam’s laughter falters for a moment, but Michael, who clearly doesn’t give a shit, starts howling with laughter.

“Enjoy your lockdown, kid,” Dean says on a grin. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Dean,” Adam grumbles, but half-heartedly.


	8. March 25th 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, man, he’s starting to go a little stir-crazy.
> 
> He must be.
> 
> He’s talking to Claire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole chapter was prompted by [RooBear68](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RooBear68) asking for Dean dancing with Claire and maybe Cas suffering a panic attack at the store. The two seemed to meld together quite smoothly.
> 
> Next chapter up tomorrow! Prod me with comments and/or snippets you'd like to see? Hurry, before this quarantine is over.
> 
> **Genuine question... How soon do you want the UST resolved? I mean... I can draw this out...**
> 
> Both partner and I have suffered some of the restlessness by now, but we're doing good and much better than many people out there, as evidenced by the fact that I can commit a fair bit of time to writing this.
> 
> You beautiful lot: take your meds and showers, change into other clothes during the day, and eat good food, yeah?
> 
> Stay safe and sane and such!  
> Love,  
> Mal

Oh, man, he’s starting to go a little stir-crazy.

He must be.

He’s talking to Claire.

The back door’s wide open to let some much-needed air in. His classics playlist is on, blasting loud enough to potentially bother the neighbors, but at the rate they’re going, he doubts anyone objects to a little pick-me-up. Maybe he ought to find a way to play some of his favorite classic movie tunes loud enough to get a dialogue going with the neighborhood.

The Imperial March or something.

That or Britney’s  _ Toxic, _ but Cas would likely have his hide for that.

Right now, however, he’s on his hands and knees at cat level. Claire’s squinting at him, doing that exquisitely annoying cat-thing, where she’ll walk up to him and park her ass just out of reach. Like an inch. Less than an inch.

And when he shuffles closer, she mewls and gets moving again, doing the same thing all over again. All the while batting her proverbial cat lashes at him. She must be a teenager in cat years. No doubt about it.

What is he doing?

Right, he’s trying to make friends with the cat, because Cas loves her to bits. Even though she’s a destructive little shit, because she’s been using the corner of the wall as a scratching post and shredded a whole roll of toilet paper.

Stuff’s like gold, man.

“Come on, sweetheart, he said we both have to behave.”

He resettles onto his bare feet, so he can frog walk closer to her. A soft mewl has him scoffing a smile. He took the Benadryl this morning, so his itching nose is likely a Pavlov response.

Still.

He extends his hand to her, stopping short of touching her, so she can sniff him. She does. He lifts one finger so it’s hovering near her forehead. Her eyes, which hold the line between sea-green and ocean-blue somehow, trace the movement, but she doesn’t run.

He’s sweating, for fuck’s sake.

“Let’s try this maybe,” he mutters.

He skips the songs, until he finds the one he’s looking for and tucks his phone in his butt pocket.

Blinking a few times, expecting her to bolt, he lets his finger make contact with her forehead. Her head vanishes into her neck a bit, like a turtle, but then she pushes back. Chuckling, he gives her scritches. Soft kitty.

And all of a sudden, her reserves seem to fly out the window. She mewls, louder this time and lifts her butt, her tail going up in a question mark. She head-butts his hand with more vigor, so he lets it slide over her head to her back. He’s careful about the butt area, because he’s not sure all cats like that. Sometimes they get hissy about it.

Claire’s purring.

“Okay, okay, good. See? Not that bad. Can I… try to…?”

Pleased with himself, he hums along to  _ The Year Of The Cat _ . The song must be working wonders, because Claire allows him to pick her up and the next thing he knows, he’s crooning along to it to the little bundle of fluff in his arms, while dancing with her.

She’s purring louder and he laughs through the lyrics, twirling around gently. Her toe beans are on his arm and he can feel tiny claws digging in. For a second, he falters, because maybe she’s getting pissed off. When he looks down, he sees both her front paws working the soft skin on his lower arm like dough.

Biscuits?

She looks up at him sweetly and he massages the top of her head with three fingers.

It isn’t until the song dies out and he comes to a halt, balancing on one foot for a moment, that he catches movement from the corner of his eye. He looks up, smiling, knowing, and finds Cas, leaning against the doorframe of his office. His shirt is partway unbuttoned and his hair is a mess, cause he’s been carding through it while working. A sure sign, he’s also a bit on edge.

He wills a soothing lilt into his voice.

“Heya, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.”

Cas smiles softly, walking up to them. Up close he looks tired and his eyes are skittish.

“I see you two are getting along.”

“Don’t break out the champagne just yet. It might be a lucky hit, thanks to the song.”

“I heard. Very pleasant to hear you sing,” Cas says, as he pets Claire behind the ear.

She licks his finger and apparently, Dean’s immune system decides it’s had enough. He all but sneezes his head off three times in rapid succession. Claire’s tail bushes up and she digs her claws into his shoulder, tearing him open in the process of trying to get the fuck away from him. He feels two points of pressure on his lower back as she pushes off of him and scampers away.

Throughout the lightning-speed encounter, Cas exclaims words he can’t quite process in mild panic.

Another violent sneezing bout takes him.

“Oh, fuuuuck,” he wheezes, eyes watering.

Then he feels hands on his shoulder.

“Dean, your shoulder,” Cas says, “She scratched through your shirt. You’re bleeding.”

“Ah, fuck,” he repeats, trying to see, which, no, doesn’t work. “That’s gonna swell.”

Cas looks positively upset at what just transpired. “Maybe… Would it help if you go shower it all off? Did you take your Benadryl?”

“I did this morning,” he nods, pushing the back of his hand to his nose.

Cas digs up a pristine white handkerchief from his jeans and hands it over. Dean wipes his eyes and blows his nose.

“A shower might not be a bad idea actually,” he mutters nasally.

His eyes keep watering, too hard to make out much of Cas besides his general color scheme. Pretty.

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

“What?” he fusses in turn. “Not your fault, man. Come on. Don’t worry about it. I’ll go rinse off and take some more Benadryl. Good as new.”

He starts moving towards the stairs, but turns back. Cas is still standing there and his body language oozes discomfort.

“Can you check if Claire’s okay?”

“I… Yes, I will. If you need me to disinfect your shoulder, yell?”

Huh. Excellent idea.

Except he’s feeling too miserable to indulge the comforting fantasy of stripping his shirt off in front of Cas and allowing him to take care of the tiny, silly cat scratches.

Definitely going stir-crazy.

*

He sinks into the water with a groan. The shower escalated into a bath. Because apparently teeny tiny cat scratches sting like a motherfucker, when you’re allergic, and he wants to try and clear his sinuses. So the water’s probably too hot for his own good, but he doesn’t really care.

He switches to a softer, relaxing playlist, wet fingers not cooperating fully on the phone’s touch screen. With a sigh, he sinks lower into the tub, stretching his legs out, so as much as possible of him is below the surface of the water.

Humming along, he feels himself doze off.

Ridiculous.

He’s getting more than his four hours now than he was while the restaurant was open.

His phone ringing jolts him out of his nap violently and he sloshes a fair amount of water out of the tub in the process. He picks up blindly, having to reslide several times before it works.

“Cas?”

“Hi, yes, this is Rooney from the pharmacy. I think you were here a few days ago. Do you know Cas… Casteel?”

He clambers out of the tub, slipping a bit on the wet floor, and reaches for his towel. “Castiel. Yes, he’s my… Yes. What’s wrong?”

“He’s having a panic attack. He came in for allergy meds, told me about how you got hurt because of his cat, and… He…”

Fuck. He didn’t even hear the car engine. Or maybe Cas walked.

“Get him to breathe in a bag. Inhalers don’t work for him. I’m on my way. Come to think of it, can you put him on?”

“I’ll put you on speaker.”

The sound shifts in density.

“Cas?”

He hears the rattling wheeze of Cas’ breath. Shit, that’s way too fast and his name comes out as barely a broken whisper. “Dean…”

“Cas! Angel, it’s okay. I’m on my way.”

He towels off at lightning speed, though he might as well not, when his slacks and shirt cling to him as soon as he puts them on. The crinkling sound of a paper bag makes it through and he hears Rooney talk to Cas.

“Just focus on her face, Cas. Can you do that for me? Sit down. Put your hands around the bag. I’ll be right there.”

“He can’t say much more now.”

He thunders down the stairs, stepping into his boots barefoot and grabbing his keys. “That’s alright. Can you stay with him? I’m on my way.”

“Sure thing.”

It’s not like the pharmacy is far away, but he floors it. It takes three turns and Baby is skidding to an impressive, maybe somewhat dramatic halt in front of the entrance. He gets out, slamming the door, and finds Cas on a bench, paper bag expanding and deflating rapidly. Next to him is a short, sweet-looking young lady, with dark curls. She’s sitting on the bench next to Cas, talking to him.

Shooting her a quick, cursory smile, he can’t do much beyond focus on Cas, as he squats in front of him, searching his eyes.

“Heya, Cas,” he mutters sweetly.

His own heart is hammering like crazy. Holy hell. He means to maintain the usual, sensible distance, but Cas let go of the bag with one hand, grabbing for him. A few things happen at once. Dean instinctively reaches out to remedy the bag issue, Cas leaning into the touch. On a pained whimper, Cas’ hand clutches onto his biceps, slipping under his shirt sleeve. Dean’s still damp from the bath.

“Dean, I’m so sorry.”

Fuck, if his heart isn’t breaking.

“It’s alright,” he mumbles. “I need you to focus on me. You’re breathing too fast still. Okay? Look at me.”

Cas’ eyes lock onto his, his forehead wrinkling. He’s been crying. Gingerly Dean places both hands to Cas’ cheeks, drawing a soft sound from Cas, which is good. That means he’s still feeling his physical body. He rubs soothing circles to Cas’ cheekbones.

“In, two, three, four,” he counts, “Out, two, three, four, five, six, it’s okay if you can’t make it yet. In, two, three, four, out, two, three, four, five, six.”

“You’re good at this.”

He doesn’t look at Rooney, but allows a quick uptick to the corner of his mouth. “Been here before,” he says, and keeps counting Cas through it, extending the breaths out until he can get to eight, maybe ten.

It takes longer than last time, though he can’t, for the life of him, say how long. Rooney takes off for a bit, because she has a pharmacy to run, but when she notices Dean helping Cas to his feet, she makes her way outside again.

“I have your allergy meds. And I put in an extra sanitizer pack. Face, hands. You know.”

Dean accepts the bag from her and pulls out the sanitizer tissues, opening the pack for Cas to grab one. He’s leaning on Dean’s shoulder heavily, trembling, but as always, the focus returns to his eyes rapidly. Wiping down his face and hands, he looks at Rooney, schooling his features.

“Thank you. I’m sorry to make such a spectacle…”

Dean puts his hand to Cas’ lower back. “Cas, it’s okay.”

“Please, no,” Rooney echoes Dean’s sentiment immediately. “These are trying days. What seems like a small thing can have a big impact.”

Her eyes seem to linger on Dean’s shoulder and he cranes his neck, pulling at his shirt. White t-shirt. He snorts gently when he catches sight of the blood seeping through. Damn, Claire got him good. Winking at Rooney, he waves a dismissive hand and she nods.

“Take care of each other, alright? I mean, you obviously got that covered,” she smiles.

“Thanks for calling Dean,” Cas says, “And keeping me company.”

“Yeah, that,” Dean says. “You too.”

Rooney waves and disappears back inside. He loops a finger through Cas’ belt and tugs. “Did you walk here?”

“Hmm? Yes, I did.”

“Alright, let’s get you home then.”

He breaks the point of contact reluctantly. As they walk to Baby, he feels out of sorts, though he isn’t sure why. It’s not Cas’ first panic attack nor his first time dealing with it. In fact, Cas has remedied his own panic attacks often enough. Strictly speaking, he doesn’t need Dean. And he had Rooney with him.

Baby’s door creaks as he pulls it shut.

“I’m sorry if I upset you.”

“You didn’t.”

Cas juts out his chin stubbornly. “I did. I can tell.”

Dean grumbles, because it is getting increasingly difficult to hide things from Cas.

“Well, okay, yes, but let me sift through it first. I don’t know why I’m upset, but I know it’s not your fault. You hear me?”

He looks at Cas as he takes the turn, smooth and easy, grateful for the vibrations of Baby coursing through him. “Cas.”

“I hear you, hotshot,” Cas says. It’s part bluster, because he’s obviously feeling guilty, but there’s a sweet cockiness to his mouth Dean isn’t at all opposed to. “But then what has you upset?”

“I dunno, man. Maybe I’m just hungry.”

Cas snickers. “Oh, no, soon you’ll be hangry.”

“Yeah, then what?”

“I’ll just give you a hug and help you cook.”

Dean flicks his eyes to Cas, his face softening with the warmth that pools inside.

Isn’t that a glorious idea?

“What do you wanna eat, Cas?”

Cas gives it barely any thought. “Shepherd’s pie?”

He goes over the mental list of ingredients they have in the house, as he pulls up on Cas’ driveway. “I should be able to make that work.”

Claire comes trotting up to them from the back of the house. Cas scoops her up, cuddling her close to his chest, muttering something to her that sounds suspiciously like  _ ‘don’t you ever dare do that again, I’ll turn you into a rug, no, I won’t, but don’t you dare’. _


	9. March 26th 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knows something’s up the second he carries the box inside and bumps into Cas.
> 
> “Close your eyes!”
> 
> Craning his neck so he can look around the box, he scoffs. “Like right now?”
> 
> “I mean, put the box down first, but close your eyes!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Close, but no dice.
> 
> I swear, I have a plan in sight, but I'm trying to sort of balance it out a bit. Open to suggestions ^^ *HUGS* and looking to see what local shelters and hospitals might need... if we can help.
> 
> I hope you and yours are safe and sound, y'all.
> 
> Love,  
> Mal

Since their little stunt on the dancefloor, Claire has decided the Hoomins Are Safe. Now that she’s finally inside, it looks like she won’t be leaving any time soon. For a while Dean worries she might be allowed in the bed, but Cas keeps his door closed. Dean does the same for the spare bedroom, with religious zeal. She’s cute, but he doesn’t need that.

Then he wonders why he cares, because he’s not sleeping in Cas’ bed.

They’re on the couch, each with a book. Dean’s foot is pressed to Cas’ thigh as he tries to focus on _New York 2140_ which, all things considered, might not have been the brightest choice, but he’s stubborn like that. And he can appreciate the sarcastic observational skills of the nameless citizen character.

Cas is re-reading one of the books he has to translate. On the front is a beautiful picture of two bees, cuddling in a flower. It’s a Russian novel about a beekeeper who finds love in the unlikeliest place. At least that’s what Cas is telling him. Dean has a sinking suspicion there’s a helluva lot more going on in that book, judging by the color Cas’ ears get now and then.

Dean’s taken with this moment, the sun falling in through the open back door and windows, warming up the house. Claire’s sunning on the wooden floor, Jack’s soaking up light in the kitchen. Cas who is at once so present and far away, making it possible for Dean to shamelessly observe him. Less likely to get caught the way he did during Cas’ yoga.

Cas lets out a small, cute sound, chewing his lower lip, which draws Dean’s attention. Jeez, he’s deep into it, because he doesn’t even notice Dean leaning closer. Dean’s chest expands warmly and his heart picks up an interesting pace, when Cas’ cheeks heat up with a blush. His glasses slide down the bridge of his nose and he shoves them back with one finger, then chews it, completely enthralled.

So insanely attractive.

Amused, he turns his attention back to his own book, the letters now blurry because he’s smiling too hard. “Mmhey, Cas? Are you planning on reading me any of your translations again any time soon?”

Accompanied by a lovely, flustered gasp, Cas’ mind pops back to reality with an almost audible snap and he blinks hard, trying to return to the here and now. He shifts his thigh in the process, pressing into Dean.

Heated blue eyes find his and, Christ on a cracker, he wishes he was responsible for that look on Cas. All the same, Cas is leaning in dangerously and Dean holds his breath, wondering where that’s going to go. His eyes travel to those lips. He’s been wondering for a while now, how soft they are for how chapped they look. Cas uses lip balm, so… yeah. He tries to ignore the needy ache that stirs in his gut.

“I.. hrrrm, maybe? I’m not pleased with how it’s turning out. Hence why I’m…” Cas lifts the book, his index finger serving as a bookmark.

Dean smiles at him, working his eyebrow subtly, as he licks his lower lip. Frowning, Cas’ gaze drops to the gesture, his teeth digging into his own lower lip.

Cas grimaces, when Claire’s nails scrape over the wall with the sound of chalk on blackboard. They wince in unison, the moment broken.

“I need to order her a scratching post,” Cas says. "Between you and the wall, she's a touch destructive."

"Just a touch?" Dean all but glares at the feline, who is squinting smugly at him across the distance. “Amazon’s not exactly delivering flawlessly.”

“No, they’re not and who can blame them. They’re prioritizing food and medication.”

Cas turns his bright blue eyes on him and Dean swallows, because those are the puppy eyes. He doesn’t quite know why they’re coming out.

“Would you mind going out to get her one?”

It’s starting, he thinks. She’s succeeding at working Dean out of the house!

“Yeah, sure. No problem. How big do you want it?”

He’s not even consciously adding the double entendre.

Cas’ eyebrows shoot up and he snickers. “Three stories high?”

Dean shakes his head, then nods, pursing his lips. “You got it.”

*

He’s making up his mind about what color goes best with the general vibe of Cas’ aesthetic when the text comes in.

**> > Any chance you can pick up some fruit and yoghurt? Please? X**

<< I thought you semi-swore off dairy?

**> > Cravings......**

The amount of ellipsis there suggests Cas might be scrunching up his face adorably at the phone. In a spur of the moment feeling, Dean snaps a quick selfie where he’s grinning widely and sends it. He grabs the stone grey scratching post and another bag of cat litter, before heading to the cash register.

**> > Dean!**

<< :p I got you, Cas. Anything else while I’m out here, risking my ass? X

He gets a glaring selfie in return for that.

**> > Nope. Now you got me worried. Get your ass back here asap.**

He runs his tongue over his teeth, chuckling, earning him a sweet look from a young lady behind him who’s not grasping the concept of social distancing very well. He steps out of her range, pays for the cat stuff and puts the rather massive box on Baby’s backseat.

The supermarket is still an adventure. Allowed entrance one by one, until they hit the new math capacity. No more than three items of the same kind allowed per person. He throws an extra pack of pasta and rice in the cart, just because it’s sensible, and a box of candles and batteries. In case the power goes out. He can almost hear the words in John’s voice.

He sings along to _Broken Wings_ all the way home.

*

He knows something’s up the second he carries the box inside and bumps into Cas.

“Close your eyes!”

Craning his neck so he can look around the box, he scoffs. “Like right now?”

“I mean, put the box down first, but close your eyes!”

“Okie Dokie.”

The days are beginning to stretch into endless, sunny, strange infinity with Cas. He isn’t sure if he’s opposed or not to this languid, out of time rhythm that makes him wonder how humanity functioned before it invented the clock, but he’s definitely on board with being around Cas.

“Ooh, I love the color,” Cas hums.

He’s tempted to get distracted by the scratching post. Dean can tell by the way he looks from the box to the living room and hallway, trying to figure out where it would best fit. Then he takes the bag of litter from Dean’s hand and looks at him.

“Close ‘em.”

“Okay, okay,” he exclaims and does. He grins, lifting his arms in a smug gesture. “You gonna help me out of my jacket?”

Cas produces a soft noise that implies he knows Dean can do it himself, but indulges him either way. Hey. You give a little, you get a little, right? Dean smiles, angling his head, when he feels Cas’ hands at the nape of his neck, sliding across both shoulders to get the leather off him.

“I trust you can toe off your shoes yourself?”

He reaches for Cas blindly, grabbing him by the shoulder to do exactly that. “Barely. You’re asking too much.”

Cas chuckles and hooks their fingers together to lead him. On a soft sigh, Dean rubs his knuckles into Cas’ palm. It isn’t far, obviously.

“Okay, open.”

The living room has been rearranged. The couch has been unfolded into a bed big enough for three.

“I didn’t know that thing was a couch bed!”

“Look closer,” Cas pouts. “It isn’t about the bed.”

Dean cocks his head, because isn’t it? That’s a shame. Then he catches sight of the beamer, its projector aimed at… the ceiling? And he pieces it together.

“You made a ceiling cinema for me?”

Cas laughs excitedly, pressing his sweater-covered hands together. He’s glowing, gums showing, eyes alight, the whole damn shebang and Dean’s heart stops working for a bit.

“This is awesome! What’d I do?”

The face Cas makes is ten ways to adorable. “You have to ask?”

An odd sentiment, because he feels Cas has been doing a lot more for him simply by existing. Dean just hangs around and cooks. And pines.

“I feel I need to go cook us up something tasty. And snacks. I’m thinking… chili?”

“The one with coffee and chocolate?” Cas wiggles in excitement, digging his teeth into his thumb around a smile. “Yes, please.”

Dean smiles like an idiot at the sight and turns towards the kitchen, but then he notices. “Hey, you found the candles I bought.”

They’re spread around the living room, scattered in twos and threes of colorful candle holders. So technically they were supposed to be a back-up plan, but ceiling cinema on a couch bed with Cas, surrounded by candles?

Sure.

He takes up residence in his natural habitat, while Cas assembles the scratching post. It’s going to go in the sunniest spot in the house near the back door.

*

He can sleep here. No questions asked.

Possibly because he ate too much. They were dutiful about the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen, before succumbing to the lure of the couch bed. They brought in all the pillows in the house, along with two duvets, so the living room looks more like a nest than anything else. Claire’s got her very own pillow, to the top right of Cas’ head. She’s doing her best impression of a liquid. With a good dozen candles casting warm squares of light across the room, it’s borderline romantic.

Who’s he kidding? It is.

Dean’s on his back, one arm propped up behind his head. Cas is at a slight angle, fitting into the crook of Dean’s arm. They’re not exactly touching, but Cas is close enough for Dean to feel his warmth. If Cas turns his head, his dark hair would tickle Dean’s cheek. One of Cas’ legs is flopped over his.

He wonders if Cas’ touch-averseness is being worn down, simply because Dean is permanently present and nothing more.

They’re watching the UK production of _‘Me and My Girl’_ with Robert Lindsay. The quality ain’t all that good, but the musical’s grand and Lindsay’s the absolute end in _The Lambeth Walk_. There was a whole slew of classic movies and musicals in the folder Cas meandered through, before they settled on that one.

“Where did you find all this?”

“Uhhh…” Cas frowns, facing him, looking suddenly very guilty. “I downloaded stuff.”

“Hell, Cas, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

He glowers. “I hate it. I felt guilty the whole time. And you bringing this up doesn’t help.”

“I had no idea,” Dean says. “But I appreciate you breaking the law for me.”

“Oh, hush.”

Dean laughs, wanting to smooth the wrinkles out of Cas’ forehead with a kiss. Instead he gets assaulted by Cas, who – shit – knows exactly how sensitive he is to tickling.

Which is to say, way too fucking sensitive.

“I’ll have you know – those people – deserve their money – as much as anyone else!”

Dean howls, trying to scramble out of reach. He succeeds in getting partly upright, but his legs are stuck in the duvet and the pillows make for a poor foundation for these shenanigans. Or perfect, he’s not sure. Claire scampers off when Cas sits bolt upright and chases him, mercilessly going for his sensitive spots. Dean’s giggling helplessly at his mercy.

Sort of.

He’s allowing it.

Cas is strong, though they’ve never been in a position before for him to figure out just how strong. Or how easily (or not) Dean could potentially get him pinned to the bed.

Turns out he’s a fucking helluva lot stronger than his sweater-wearing, soft-spoken daily vibe suggests.

Dean grabs his wrist, when his abdomen starts to hurt and he has trouble breathing, pulling Cas off balance. With a squealed laugh, Cas overcompensates, because he’s stubborn and doesn’t want to give in, and he surges forward, pushing with the arm Dean has a hold of. It sends Dean falling backwards and all of a sudden he has a lap full of Cas, who’s utterly relentless, his hands low on Dean’s flanks and then at the inside of his thighs and holy fucking shit.

Ticklish skates close to erogenous with the right person.

“Caaaaas,” he wails through a deep, desperate laugh.

He grabs hold of the wrist that’s buried between his legs and pries it up, Cas mewling in protest. The other he anchors at his hip, snickering weakly.

“Stop, please, I can’t breathe. Stopstopstop.”

“Show some appreciation for my lawless ways and maybe I will.”

Cas dips his fingers into Dean’s neck with his free hand and Dean squirms, tingling jolts of energy shooting across his spine.

“Oh, I appreciate, I appreciate,” he howls. “So much. Fuuuuck, you’re a menace.”

“I can be,” Cas says in a breathy laugh, leaning over him.

It brings Cas in so close, Dean’s mind sort of resets. Forgets he’s being tickled. He’s pressed into the back of the couch, with nowhere to go. Not that he’d want to. Cas’ sweet, crooked smile, the one with that uptick to one corner of his mouth that sends his eyes crinkling fills Dean’s vision. He becomes acutely aware of the fact that he has a vice-like hold on Cas’ hip and wrist.

That and if Cas moves just a bit to the left in his lap, he’ll notice something else entirely.

Their eyes meet and oh, something shifts. Warm and smooth like honey, it trickles across them, tempting in its scent and allure. Dean inhales sharply, searching Cas’ face.

Cas doesn’t do touch.

His current position suggests otherwise.

But words trump behavior, in his experience. Playing taught him that much, some of it the hard way. It isn’t even a 24/7 lifestyle. Simply something he indulges in now and then. Clear communication is key. And Cas has made it abundantly clear over the years that he does not appreciate random touch.

It doesn’t deter the feelings he has for him, but it does mean he has to toe the line.

The thoughts cross his mind at lightning-speed, which is all that allows him to stop the trajectory his lips set out towards Cas’ soft, glorious mouth.

Cas seems to catch on as well, his eyes wider, when the energy of the moment sparks between them. He smiles, a touch awkward vulnerability to his eyes when he narrows them at Dean, as if trying to read him. So Dean schools his own. He thinks he does anyway. Right now he might as well write _‘I love you, Castiel Novak’_ in permanent marker on his forehead.

Cas moves and Dean’s heart gives out under the disappointment, but he lets him go as Cas slips out of his lap and the bed. Cas runs his hand through his beautifully messy hair, adjusting his clothes, and Dean finds himself doing the same, trying to subtly palm at his groin.

Cas points with a sleeve. “I’ma go use the bathroom and get some juice. You want anything?”

“I…” He clears his throat, trying to find back his voice. “Yeah, juice sounds like a good idea.”

For a moment, it looks like Cas wants to say something, his lips moving around mental words, but then he nods and gets moving. Dean watches him go, his heart settling in a permanent state of disarray. He fumbles for the remote to search for another movie.

It’s all kinds of weirdly perfect in its chaos.


	10. March 27th 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dean-o, if all else fails… I read there’s a bunch of strippers who are now doing deliveries. Maybe you could do the reverse and provide a stripper service online?”
> 
> Cas pops up like one of those whack-a-moles, hair standing on end as he glares at the phone, for all the good it does him. “Gabe!” he barks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My cat, Nutsey, actually does that. Bats a paw in my face until I lift the blankets so she can curl up against my stomach.
> 
> I got distracted from my notes. Not that there's much to say, besides some general feelings of being unmoored on this end.
> 
> *huggles* I hope you lot are safe and sound and keeping sufficiently occupied.  
> Love,  
> Mal

He swears he feels cat toe beans on his cheek in his sleep.

Impossible, because Claire's not allowed in his room.

Then Dean’s phone genuinely pulls him out of his sleep in the most unforgiving way. He sits bolt upright, instinctively patting around for the damn thing, jostling Cas in the process - and hey, how did he get here? Claire moves to her pillow, gives a small chirp and sits on her haunches. Cas grumbles at him, his glasses askew on his face, as he twists into the pillow and cuddles closer.

The adorable gesture takes some of the sting out of his tone when he picks up without even looking who it is. “Yeah?”

“Good morning to you too, Dean,” Sam says. “You’re aware it’s almost noon?”

“Mmmhfuckno,” he mutters, putting him on speaker. “Late night. Cas made me a ceiling cinema in the living room and we fell asleep.”

“Too much visual input,” Cas mumbles blearily, as he takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes. “My head hurts.”

Sam snickers on the other end. “Wait, you’re both still on the couch? That can’t have been comfortable.”

“Couch bed,” Dean smiles smugly as he stretches. “Cas has a friggin’ couch bed in his living room.”

“Excuse me?” Gabriel cuts through. “You’re in bed with my angel baby brother?”

“As a matter of fact, I am. What’re you gonna do about it, Gabe? Cough through the phone?”

“Dean!” Cas says, as he sits upright and winces at the sudden movement. “That is no joking matter!”

“Sorry, Cas.”

There’s some giggling on the other end and he thinks he hears the sound of Gabe imitating a whip. Dean looks at Cas and they roll their eyes in unison.

“How’s your kitchen looking, Sam?”

“Like Charlie’s Chocolate Factory exploded. But I have to admit the results are good.”

“I wish I could drop some off,” Gabe says, “But Sam insists it’s a bad idea. I even got a moving graph thingy that shows what happens if good little humans play by the rules and stay home. Lives saved and all.”

“You’ll have to make up for it once this is all over,” Dean says. “I contemplated doing a delivery service, but it seems counterintuitive to be handling food and passing it to other people.”

Sam makes a doubtful noise. “Yeah, I also doubt it’d be very cost-effective.”

“Some money is better than no money.”

“True. Did you do the paperwork yet?”

Dean grunts once, then twice in rapid succession when he sees Cas narrow his eyes at him.

“I… did.”

Cas cocks his eyebrow knowingly. Sonova… Is it getting harder to lie? Not that he has the habit of doing so, but this close encounter seems to be making it more difficult.

“I’ll have a chat with him about it, Sam,” Cas says, sounding not at all ominous.

Sam outright laughs. “Have fun with that. He’s the worst.”

“Dean-o, if all else fails… I read there’s a bunch of strippers who are now doing deliveries. Maybe you could do the reverse and provide a stripper service online?”

Cas pops up like one of those whack-a-moles, hair standing on end as he glares at the phone, for all the good it does him. “Gabe!” he barks.

The fervor behind the word is strong enough to make Dean drop his phone and he fumbles to catch it, staring at Cas as he mutters into the mic. 

“Gabe, stop doing that, man. I gotta live with him and you’re seriously ruffling some feathers here.”

“I am?” Gabe asks. “Gee, I had no idea that would provoke a reaction.”

Cas glowers some more and flops down into the pillow, face first.

“Clearly you’re not very ill.”

“Did you see the video of the angry Italian mayors?” Sam asks, diverting the attention away from whatever just happened.

“What’s going on with the Italian mayors?”

“It’s funny in a warped kinda way. Italian mayors are yelling at their people to get the fuck back inside and that they’ll send in police to public gatherings. With flame throwers.”

“Ooh, we’re getting into Mad Max territory after all. Send me the link.”

Next to him, Cas groans, peeking sideways at Dean. He makes a reassuring gesture at Cas, shooting him a soft wink, as he mouths _‘I got you’_.

“It’s good to hear from you guys, but I think it’s time we get coffee and food in us here.”

“I want a walk,” Cas mumbles.

“And a walk,” Dean adds with a smile.

That earns him a reluctant, fond smile for his efforts.

“Okay, take care, you guys,” Sam says.

“You too!”

He hangs up and flops into the pillow, letting his arm dangle off the couch bed.

“I’m sorry,” Cas sighs. “I might be grumbly today.”

“I gathered as much. That’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Pretty sure it was my idea to put on that obscure black ’n white at 2am.”

“True. But I agreed, because cozy. I just need to respect my rhythm better or it’ll all go to shit in my head.”

“Rhythm? What is this rhythm you speak of?”

“You know, regular showers, eating at fixed times, though you’ve got us covered there. Doing paperwork."

Dean glares at him, though Cas looks anything but impressed.

"What's preventing you from getting it done?" he asks. He folds his arms, resting his cheek on them and looks at Dean. Those sky blue eyes are gentle and genuinely curious.

"Just... I don't like paperwork and it's terrifying to have to apply for it, because it means... It means I'm technically laid off. Without a job. And this isn't the kind of country where you easily recover from that."

Cas mulls it over. It would be all too easy to bring up what his grandmother said, but Dean hopes he won't. As kind as her offer is, it came from the heart, not the number-crunching reality of what it would take to keep him afloat.

"Well, Gabe isn't entirely wrong."

He grins. "You want me to set-up a striptease service?"

Some of the air goes out of the room. His skin tingles from the look Cas sends him. An angrily indulgent gaze, that smooths out his features until he's like one of those glorious, marble statues in museums. Unreadable and untouchable.

Cas' brow knits together and his eyes skip away to Claire. He pets her under her chin. "I suggest we take a look at your paperwork together and get it done."

“Uhm, yes. Okay. But first food. Coffee. Walk. Okay?”

Cas hides in the pillow and his response is a muffled 'yes'.

"And Cas?"

“Hmm?”

“I really like this set-up.”

Cas rolls onto his side, nuzzling into the pillow cutely. “Me too. Just maybe… not a whole night of movies tonight.”

“We can listen to some music, read a bit, play a game. ‘s All good.”

Cuddles, he wants to add, while he calls up the image of Cas in his lap and how close they got two nights ago. Cuddles would be exquisite.


	11. March 28th 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He finds reasons to make his way into Cas’ office, bringing in snacks or a drink. Cas’ jeans look painted on him, pulled taut across his thighs, knees bent to fit the kneeling chair. His fingers fly across the keyboard rapidly. Dean raids Cas’ library, which seems to be the best way to get in there. Contrary to expectations, none of it bothers Cas.
> 
> In fact, he seems pleased to see Dean every time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The teddybear-hunting is a thing that's been happening here. Kids are at home and often going on walks, with or without their parents. Because entertainment. So we've been putting out teddybears for them to hunt. No idea if it's a global thing, but these days anything's a global thing so odds are 't is.
> 
> Your input is still welcome, as are your thoughts on these two boys.
> 
> Stay safe and weird.  
> Love,  
> Mal

It is difficult to find a structure for himself.

Cas has his job. Thankfully.

But that means Dean’s left to fend for himself for a fair part of every day. He squeezes in the workouts, but they’re boring him. He calls Adam and Sam. Twice. The kid's at a similar loss and wants to get back to kissing Michael, most likely. Sam suggests he starts jogging, but… no, just, no. He tries to play with Claire, but he seems to bore her, because to be fair, she sleeps most of the day. Then gets 3am cat attacks and charges through the house. He sings along to all his playlists and wonders if he can figure out how to get that stuff online, but decides against it, because he hates the spotlight. There's a reason he's most comfortable in the kitchen. He puts a teddybear on top of a box in the upstairs window, above the sheet they hung, for kids to hunt during their daily walks or bike rides.

He drives to his apartment. 1) To make sure Baby’s battery doesn’t die. And b) to pick up his mail. Nothing but bills, of course, which does not help his mindset one bit. So he sits at his kitchen table, staring at them for a while, before he pulls up the bank app, pays them and hightails it back to Cas.

He finds reasons to make his way into Cas’ office, bringing in snacks or a drink. Cas’ jeans look painted on him, pulled taut across his thighs, knees bent to fit the kneeling chair. His fingers fly across the keyboard rapidly. Dean raids Cas’ library, which seems to be the best way to get in there. Contrary to expectations, none of it bothers Cas.

In fact, he seems pleased to see Dean every time.

So he takes his time picking and choosing a few books. He stacks them up on top of the base cabinets, focusing on books that inspired series or movies.

“Any progress on that Russian novel?”

“Hmm,” Cas nods, “It’s coming along. Finally.”

“Ooh?”

The look Cas gives him makes him realize trying to wheedle that translation out of Cas is about to get him booted out of the office. He pouts at Cas, who in turn raises an eyebrow at him over the rim of his glasses, and whelp, that’s… appealing.

The words are out before he can give their wisdom due diligence. “Librarian look works on you. Did you know?” he grins.

Cas’ eyes twinkle and he slides the glasses a bit further down his nose. “Yes.”

Well, shit.

“Are you trying to flatter your way in here?”

Dean leans against the doorframe smoothly, the books under his arm. “I thought you were largely immune to flattery, Cas. But if it works… You’re giving the sun a right hard time with the way your eyes light up the room.”

Cas looks at him fondly, as he presses his glasses back up, and wrinkles his nose. “First one was better.”

Dean throws his head back, laughing, and regards Cas expectantly. The moment stretches out, comfortably, languidly, and he’s smiling. Cas smiles back, tilting his head, curiosity oozing off him. Eventually Cas inhales sharply, the sound of it physically drawing Dean inside.

“This room does get good sunlight. That chair most of all.” Cas points at the single seater near the window.

Dean grins wickedly and takes up residence there, setting the books on the small table.

The sun moves along its orbit, casting golden light into the room all the way to dinnertime.


	12. March 29th 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas’ lips purse into a thin line. His eyes are wide as he shakes his head. “Nope.” 
> 
> And he turns away from Dean, grabbing Claire as he goes, and escapes to his office.
> 
> “Cas, don’t,” Dean says, running after him.
> 
> The door slams in his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anyone else stupidly tired? Just me? Also a head ache that won't go away. I'm fine.
> 
> Incidentally, for those who missed it, Misha did a live video on Instagram Dr. Ali Mattu, a CBT specialist, about how to deal with all that might be going on for you. Seeing Misha as himself and the deeply caring, meditative man that he is makes me feel infinitely grateful. And Dr. Mattu is amazing. Go watch it while you still can?
> 
> Wishing y'all a lovely Sunday with a cuddle and some sunlight.
> 
> Love,  
> Mal

These are strange days, where mornings ooze into afternoons into evenings into sleep - in their own bed last night, which helps marginally to distinguish between hours of the day. Strange, even for Cas, who’s good at rhythms and schedules.

That and the outside world keeps throwing curveballs. The quarantine is getting extended to April 19th, with unclear instructions for schools in terms of continuation of the academic year and exams. Adam’s trying his best not to live like a vampire. Contaminations are increasing and apparently Johnson is among the infected.

He and Cas have been running literal circles around each other all morning. Until Dean trips over Claire, which sends her mewling dramatically and him cursing his head off. It all feels like the rubber band just snapped.

“Damnit, Dean,” Cas snaps. “You hurt her!”

“Well, if she wouldn’t be such a velcro cat, this shit wouldn’t happen,” Dean barks back.

They stare at each other, stunned. Cas’ cheeks flush, though in anger or sadness, Dean isn’t sure.

Cas’ lips purse into a thin line. His eyes are wide as he shakes his head. “Nope.” 

And he turns away from Dean, grabbing Claire as he goes, and escapes to his office.

“Cas, don’t,” Dean says, running after him.

The door slams in his face. He instantly bonks his forehead to the cool wood, leaning an arm up against the doorframe. He knocks.

No reply.

For a while, he just stands there, his fingers drumming against the wooden surface, until…

“Stop that. Sounds are... too much."

He catches himself and takes his hand off the door, trying to stare through it, wishing he had x-ray vision.

“Cas, what’s wrong?”

No answer, though he can hear Cas talking to Claire softly. There’s a quiver to his voice he can make out even through the door.

“Come on, man,” he pleads. “You know I didn’t mean to step on her or snap at you.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Cas bites.

“Okay, good,” he says, tone steelier as he clenches his jaw. “Then what’s going on?”

More silence. He sighs. This is a side of Cas he’s aware of, but rarely sees. Stress and uncertainties draw the behavior out of him, especially when his usual coping mechanisms aren’t up to the challenge. And whose coping skills are fit for a global pandemic, really? No one’s prepared for this.

It’s an earthly trauma, Dean thinks, and he wonders how they’ll recover from it.

“Neither here nor there,” he mutters.

“What?”

“Nothing. Sorry, just thinking out loud what a shit show this is.”

Suddenly the door opens and he takes a small step back, as Claire rushes out, straight for the open back door. Dean’s attention, however, solely zones in on Cas.

“Dean, can I get a cuddle?”

There are tears brimming in Cas’ eyes. His heart lurches at the sight. Dean steps into Cas’ personal space, wrapping his arms around him without hesitation. He makes sure it’s one of those encasing hugs, a bear hug, a blanket hug, the kind meant to make up for a lot of shit. He knows he’s good at them.

Cas lets out a small sound and clutches onto him. Dean’s eyes slide shut when Cas sighs into his embrace and buries his face in his neck. He feels the warmth of Cas’ breath mingle with the moisture of his tears. It has to be fogging up his glasses.

He keeps quiet, holding Cas close. One hand moves so he can card through his hair and rub circles to the back of his neck. He doesn’t quite know how long they remain that way.

Cas is, of course, the one to disengage. He sniffles and takes off his glasses, wiping at his eyes. They regard each other for a few intense heartbeats, at least on Dean’s end.

“Wanna get out for a bit? We can visit the park,” Dean offers. “I know all the best places where no one comes.”

A soft chuckle follows. “All your make-out spots?”

“So what if they are,” he winks, glad to see Cas smile. “Point is there won’t be many people, if any.”

Cas closes his eyes, sighing, and rolls his neck for a moment, baring his throat at Dean.

“Yes, please.”

“And Cas?”

“Hmm?”

“Just so you know… If you want a hug from me, all you basically gotta do is snap your fingers. I’m there.”

Cas’ face softens, his eyes dancing as if Dean just said something amazing. Maybe he has, he doesn’t know, but he’s living for the effect of it. 

“Thank you, Dean.”

“Any time, angel.”

*

So they drive to a local park, in dire need of the change of scenery and sunlight. They even pack a picnic, figuring if they can find an isolated enough spot, it’ll be okay.

And it is.

Blissfully so.

For a few hours, the world feels normal.

Cas gets a mild sunburn, despite applying sunscreen. Dean chucks his shirt and starfishes on the blanket, soaking it up. They read some, in silence and out loud. (Still no Russian novel, though Dean gets through to Cas that he’s Very CuriousTM indeed.) 

They drive home in the light of dusk, windows down and music playing.

Almost normal.

Dean makes chocolate pudding with tofu for dessert, which Cas as good as inhales. They each take a shower, before getting cozy on the couch bed. Their skin glowing and sun-kissed, their minds wrapped in that cotton-ball feeling of a day spent outside, they are soon lost to the world.

But apparently not to each other.

*

Busted.

He wakes, because of the scent. Cas’ scent. Invading his senses like never before. He jerks awake in the dark, instantly aware of Cas pressed to him head to toe. Dean’s nose is buried in his hair. He can feel the rise and fall of Cas’ back against his chest and the soft curves of his ass against his groin. Their legs are entwined and if Dean so much as scoots backwards, he’s going to fall off the couch. Which is hilarious, cause there’s an ocean of space in front of Cas.

He lifts his head minutely, blearily staring at their surroundings. There’s a few valiant candles still burning, but other than that they’re steeped in darkness. From the feel of it, it’s the middle of the night.

They fell asleep here again?

Oh, right.

He remembers the day. His cheeks glow for various reasons.

Dean noses into Cas’ hair. Did Cas do that whole scoot-chase-scoot thing in his sleep, while Dean instinctively made room until he couldn’t anymore?

His brain isn’t extremely interested in the ‘how’ though and he intuitively wants to surrender and cuddle closer. Because Cas is right there and there’s barely an inch of him Dean isn’t touching or can’t touch, if he so chooses. He’s missed this. Though how you can miss something you don’t do on the regular or even at all with a very specific person is beyond him. Perhaps it’s more apt to say he wants this. With every fiber of his being.

His chest heaves under the intensity of the moment.

What if Cas wakes up and panics?

He tries to move his arm away from around Cas, only to let out a broken sound, when he registers their fingers are intertwined on Cas’ chest. He presses his forehead to Cas’ neck, trying not to nose into his tempting warmth and failing utterly. Cas’ heartbeat is slow and soothing under his palm, so blessedly intimate, his head is spinning.

Fuuuuck.

Cas moves, this cute, squirmy kind of stretchy thing in his sleep, which makes Dean freeze, eyes wide open. He can count the dark, soft hair at the nape of Cas’ neck. Maybe he should. Maybe it’ll put him back to sleep.

Not bloody likely, because he’s getting warm and his skin is tingling and his mind is going into this scary kind of focus, because he really, really, really wants to kiss the back of Cas’ neck.

Just once.

His breath’s coming a touch too fast, he knows it is.

“Mmh, Cas,” he whispers, voice coming out hoarse.

He’s asleep. He’s asleep, Winchester, and somnophilia is likely _not_ on his kink list. Even if it is, this ain’t the way to figure that out.

“Dean?”

Cas’ voice is sleep-heavy, warm and soft, and he half expects him to shove Dean off. Instead he angles into Dean’s chest, mumbling as he cracks one eye open. “You’re warm.”

No. Shit.

He lets out a strangled chuckle. “Sorry if I woke you.”

“Mmhrf.”

He starts scooting to the middle of the bed, out of Dean’s arms. Dean sighs, rubbing his hands over his face and contemplates going to his own bed, but with Cas awake, that seems… weird? He stares at Cas’ back, while he tosses his sweater and watches him scoot and squirm, because his shirt is bunched up around him.

“I’m cold now,” Cas mutters.

He reaches backwards, groping at the empty sheets, and it takes a second to sink in that he’s somehow gesturing Dean _closer._

“You want me to…?”

An angry mewl follows and Dean scrambles to acquiesce. He scoots up to Cas, wrapping himself around him again. His hands feel chilly when their fingers entwine over Cas’ heart. Dean pushes his nose to Cas’ neck and ensures there’s not an inch left between them. The sigh he earns once they’re settled soothes his very soul. It’s almost painful how quickly he falls back asleep.


	13. March 30th 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s worried that, at this stage, not telling Cas about his feelings is starting to feel… unfair, in a way.
> 
> As in, maybe Cas should know that while he’s doing this, caring for Dean’s oh so sensitive skin (apparently!), tongue protruding cutely, Dean’s mind is in decidedly not neutral territory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are y'all doing?
> 
> Any requests, such as revisiting certain characters, suggestions or snippets in mind? Shoot them my way.
> 
> If not, I will likely be speeding up their dynamic, as I'm suffering some 'what, oh, what can I make them do next' vibes, which echo some of the restlessness around me AND it may have been long enough, yes?
> 
> I hope you're all safe and sound, as much as circumstances allow you to be.  
> Love,  
> Mal

It’s been a touch awkward, since they woke up this morning, Cas wrapped up in Dean’s arms. A soft process of waking up and squirming around, exchanging ginger good mornings, until it seemed to dawn on them. They each tumbled out of the couch bed and went their morning routine ways, trying not to make eye contact for a change.

Dean brings it up, when Cas emerges from the bathroom.

“Maybe we should fold that back up.”

Cas side eyes him, visibly put out. “I thought you liked the set-up?”

He looks away, chewing the inside of his cheek. If they keep that up, he’s going to end up doing something stupid, so yeah... “I do, but it seems to be messing with us even more…”

“Can’t argue with that really.”

So they fold up the couch and restore the living room to its original state, which feels right. Structure. Normalcy.

They’re sipping coffee in the kitchen, standing around. Dean studies Cas’ profile, caught in the sunlight. The good weather’s been holding like it’s on a mission. He drags his tongue across his knuckles, earning a strange look from Cas.

“My skin’s drying out,” he says, sticking out his hand.

“I doubt saliva’s the best ointment for that. Strange though. I’ve noticed the same on mine.” He turns his hands over, scrutinizing them. “Maybe I should put out some containers with water to evaporate…”

“It’s annoying.” Dean grunts and licks the spot where the skin split when he rubbed his fingers into his palms earlier.

“Stop licking your hand,” Cas mutters, batting at it.

He stops mid-lick, the flat of his tongue against the sore spot, twinkling at Cas over his knuckles. “But it…”

“It’s annoying, I heard you the first time. Let me go get the badger balm.”

Dean watches him walk away huffily and smiles. He returns to sipping his coffee, trying very hard not to call up the memories from last night and this morning. If Cas hadn’t  _ asked _ him to cuddle up, he might be feeling guilty. As it stands, he’s trying to figure out what the hell it means, if anything.

When Cas gets back, he’s holding a small tin jar and a bunch of fabric under his arm.

“There’s no need for bandages, is there?”

He drops the heap on the counter and stands close to Dean, unscrewing the lid of the jar. “No, that’s fabric we can use to make masks. Provided I can find my sewing kit and we have enough material.”

“Masks?”

“I saw a video on Tumblr of this guy who’s trying to provide people with ideas on how to spend their time, other than being anxious or making babies.”

“Hmm, yes, because we need more humans on the planet. So one of those methods is making masks for… local hospitals?”

“Exactly. Though I’d need to find tutorials or I’ll likely sew stuff to my own leg. Hold still.”

Dean watches his hands as Cas scoops up a bit of the pale yellow gloop that’s in the tin. Bemused he extends his hand, so Cas can apply the balm. Dean hums softly at the gentle touch. For one who is as tactile as himself, these little moments mean more than Cas can possibly fathom. Though yesterday was a right gift from above, so he can’t complain. But there’s something else occupying his mind.

He’s worried that, at this stage, not telling Cas about his feelings is starting to feel… unfair, in a way.

As in, maybe Cas should know that while he’s doing this, caring for Dean’s oh so sensitive skin (apparently!), tongue protruding cutely, Dean’s mind is in decidedly not neutral territory.

Cas looks sufficiently pleased when he looks up and Dean schools his face.

“There. All good.”

He sniffs at it, resisting the urge to lick it again, and his tone is more petulant than he intends it when he speaks. “But it isn’t all good. I’ve been doing nothing but sitting lately. Seriously, my ass hurts.”

“Well, what does your ass usually do to remedy that?”

Dean quirks an eyebrow, because he can’t resist, but he’s quick to provide an answer. “I’m on my feet most of the day, Cas. Cooking, shopping, cleaning. It’s why my paperwork takes a backseat.”

“Ooh, that reminds me…”

“Fuck.”

“Any news on that?”

“Besides confirmation that my application for support was received, nope.”

“Hmm, of course.”

Dean hums noncommitally, deciding he likes badger balm. It smells like herbs and beeswax, ingredients he uses to cook as well and he appreciates it when medicine and food coincide.

“Well, I was about to get some yoga in,” Cas says. “So you can let that sit for a while.”

“Can I join while you do yoga?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t you?”

“Ehhh. Some people don’t like others around when they’re working out?”

Cas shrugs. “I am not some people.”

“That, you aren’t.”

There’s another scrutinizing look from Cas. He’s been getting more of those lately, which he’s going to put down to living in such close proximity. For as long as they’ve known each other, Cas hasn’t spent this much time with Dean ever. So he’s bound to pick up on some of his oddities… which apparently include making heart eyes at Cas at the most inappropriate times and running his mouth.

Shooting Cas a deflective wink, he heads for the living room and flops down on the couch.

He’s about halfway through the repeat of the first tutorial video – because holy distractions, Batman – when his phone lights up with Adam’s name.

“Heya, kid,” he smiles. “What’s up?”

“So, uhhh… there are kids disappearing from campus!”

“Pardon? As in, gone missing or…?”

“No, they’re going home. Parents are pulling their kids out.”

The way his timbre rises near the end triggers Dean’s protective instincts, even though his gaze lingers on the way Cas’ back muscles are working. He realizes Adam’s panicking. For a second, he scrambles for the right words, then zones in on what would likely have the biggest impact.

“Is Michael going home?”

“No, thank fuck,” Adam sighs. “His parents told him to come home, but he’s refusing.”

Debatable from the parental point of view, but he wishes anyone who wants to pry those two apart right now luck. And he’s instantly grateful that Michael chooses to stick by Adam’s side.

“Okay, I’m glad to hear that. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you want to come home?”

“Hell no! I mean, no offence, but I wanna finish this damn year, come what may. They’re already replacing exams with papers, which, okay, is a helluva lotta papers, but I can handle that. We got nothing else to do besides eat and fu… Errm…”

Dean laughs. “Good to hear you’ve got that covered.”

“You don’t then?”

He balks and stares at the phone for a moment, wondering where this side of Adam is coming from. Intuitively his attention flicks back to Cas and he grumbles softly, rubbing his forehead with his other hand. “How is that any of your business?”

“It isn’t, but I figured after… what is it, twelve days of quarantine, y’know, you’d have broken.”

_ “Sonova…  _ I appreciate the faith you have in me. Who says it’s about me, kid?”

There’s a soft hum on the other side and Dean can hear Michael leaning in, which means – great – he’s been on speaker. Is nothing sacred anymore?

“Anyway, I wanna finish this year, but it’s weird to see people leave at this stage and it’s making me feel lonely – shut up, Mike…”

“Hey, it’s possible to feel lonely in a room full of people and we’re missing out on seeing our loved ones on the regular. We won’t be seeing each other any time soon, but it’s the fact that it’s wiser not to right now that’s probably doing your head in.”

“Yeah, I guess… I just wanna move freely,” Adam sighs. “We’ve gone parkouring, but we got caught.”

“Again? Did you get fined?”

“Nope,” he says, and there’s a hint of brazenness seeping through his tone. “But we had to bail and come back.”

“Kid, you do know you’re putting yourself and each other at risk, right?”

“I…”

Adam falls silent and Dean lets the silence grow uncomfortable, because he really needs him to get a clue. Studying hard science, Adam has to know better.

“I know,” he mutters. “But… the weather’s so nice and… it’s just… What do you do to keep busy?”

“Right now, I’m watching Cas do yoga.”

He manages to keep his tone even, but there’s something in the way Cas moves that suggests he’s  _ aware _ of Dean watching.

“You expect me to hold my tongue?”

“Yes. As a matter of fact, I do.”

Adam scoffs gently. “So are you going to join him?”

“I probably should, yeah. But to answer your question, we went to the park yesterday.”

“Hey! And you tell me to stay home.”

“For the love of…” He grunts. “You’re allowed outside, but you’re supposed to be sensible about it and jumping across surfaces isn’t sensible right now. At the rate you tend to go, you might literally run into someone, which.. just, no. But if you and Mike wanna go to the park and lie in the sun, you can. Distance, kid, distance.”

“Doesn’t sound very active though.”

“I get my work-outs in. Did I tell you about Claire?”

“I… don’t think so? You adopted a girl?”

“You’re hilarious, kid. Cas adopted a cat. So I went out to get her some stuff.”

“Awww, I want pictures.”

“I’ll send some after we’re done. And now that you mention it, I recall Cas wanted to redecorate the spare room, so maybe it’s time we roll up our sleeves in that sense.”

He earns a lovely, upside down smile for that, as Cas looks at him between his spread legs.

“Well, we can hardly redecorate our dorm, can we?”

“True, but maybe there are other things you can do. Colleges often try to help out where they can. Maybe check out local efforts to help out medical personnel. Use that social media of yours to create daily content for you and your peers…”

“That… might actually not be a bad idea, though I’d have to think what we could put out. What? The experiments?”

Adam chuckles and Dean rolls his eyes, fully cognizant Michael is baiting him. “Whatever floats your boat at this stage, kid.”

“Thanks, Dean.”

“Any time.”

“I’ll let you get to that yoga.”

“You’re too kind. Take care, kid.”

Adam snickers as they hang up.

Dean sighs and cocks his head, when he watches Cas get into a strange position that the lady on the television is calling a pigeon pose.

“Mind if I join?”

Cas’ eyes light up as he looks over his shoulder at Dean.

That’s a yes, for sure.


	14. March 31st 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is this water based paint?”
> 
> He glances at the paint buckets. “Uhh, yes, from the looks of it. So we should be able to get that out just fine.”
> 
> “Oh, will we?”
> 
> Dean frowns at the tone and looks up, then jerks, closing his eyes on instinct, when Cas flicks his fingers at him and paint hits his face.
> 
> “Sonovabitch, you didn’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You lot, I am so friggin' tired, because my brayn is giving me a right hard time. Gief some cuddles.
> 
> The boys are gettin' there though, so that's something.
> 
> Please stay well. Love you.  
> Mal

Dean’s opening up the buckets of paint. They settled on two colors easily, which, according to the lids, are ‘dusty blue’ and ‘muted green’, which, sure, is a palette he can get behind. The spare bed is stripped and all the furniture is covered with a wide array of sheets and old curtains. They covered the floor with newspapers.

“I gotta admit, Cas, I didn’t expect you to have so much paint. Or newspapers.”

“Hush. I hamster, alright?”

“You mean you hoard.”

“I am  _ not _ a hoarder,” Cas bites, crossing his arms.

He’s almost pouting, but not quite, which puts Dean in two minds. A pouting Cas is an adorable sight, but it also makes him want to kiss it better. Or just kiss.

“I prefer the word ‘hamster’,” Cas insists, as he grabs a roller and dips it into the paint. “It comes from Dutch.”

“Of course you do. I’m sure my father would have approved of your hamster tendencies.”

“I’m not sure if that’s an insult or not? Considering how you and Sam sometimes speak of him.”

“His approval was worth a lot to me.”

Dean shrugs, surprised he’s bringing it up and inhales sharply, as he refocuses and puts the roller to the wall. They start on either side of the same wall and work their way towards each other. The window’s open to let air in. The wet sound of the rollers fills the room, meshing with the birds’ song outside.

“I know.”

Cas does know. They’ve gone through a fair bit together and one of the unique things about their friendship is they don’t talk everything to death. Given his current predicament, Dean wonders if there isn’t an unforeseen side-effect to that, but on a regular day – where he’s not wrestling his feelings – it’s the best possible way to be with someone.

Cas has always seen through his deflections, with one rather gigantic exception which Cas luckily never figured out. He thinks?

He has always trusted his instincts when it comes to Cas, except for the potential glaring blind spot of late.

They work their way through the first wall without so much as a hitch, though some of the roller fluff seems to get stuck here and there. A vigorous roll on Cas’ part has paint flying through the air, which hits him square in the face.

He freezes in place, staring at the roller, and starts spluttering.

“Ack! Shit, noes!”

There’s small splatters of paint on his face and a decent few clots in his hair. Cas lifts his hand and wipes it off his face, instantly smearing it across his fingers.

“God-fucking-damnit.”

“Yeah, you did it now,” Dean snickers, which provokes a huff.

“Is this water based paint?”

He glances at the paint buckets. “Uhh, yes, from the looks of it. So we should be able to get that out just fine.”

“Oh, will we?”

Dean frowns at the tone and looks up, then jerks, closing his eyes on instinct, when Cas flicks his fingers at him and paint hits his face.

“Sonovabitch, you didn’t.”

Cas smirks devilishly, pressing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. He goes slightly cross-eyed trying to make sure he doesn’t mess those up too. “You’re right. I didn’t.”

“You did!”

Of the two of them, Cas’ is the most concerned about getting dirty, so when Dean just dips his hand into the paint, pure terror flits over his face.

“Oh, shit, no, Dean, don’t you dare… Nonono.”

He looks like he wants to bolt out of the room, but his feet are paint-smeared too, so he can’t escape. Wide, blue eyes find his, dawning horror reflected in them. Dean grins, flicking his hand at Cas, eliciting a yelp and Cas dodges the slivers of paint.

“This is not what I had in mind!”

“Should have thought of that sooner,” Dean laughs. “You should also fucking know better than to provoke me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! Do I? I thought we grew out of this in 8 th grade!”

He leaps forward, grabbing for Cas’ thighs, who scrambles to get out of reach, and they start this weird, little dance in a space much too small for two men their size. “Dude, we were still doing this in 12 th grade!”

“I don’t remember painting any spare rooms with you!”

“I’m insulted. I helped paint your dorm room!” he laughs.

Dean grunts when he slips on some paint, which quickly turns into a laugh when he manages to leave a handprint on Cas’ thigh.

“I hope you’re not attached to those clothes.”

Cas bounces away and puts the bed between them, giggling. “Shitshitshit, no, I’m not fast enough for this shit.”

“Nope, you’re not,” Dean grins. “And you play by the rules.”

He steps onto the bed, making Cas squeal and back away. “The bed! Don’t!”

Laughing, Dean pounces, planting another handprint on Cas’ back as he runs away, Dean in hot pursuit.

“Fuck this!” Cas grunts, when Dean gets close.

Cas pivots on his foot and bending low, dipping his whole hand in one of the buckets.

Dean huffs and dodges but it hits him full force anyway. He goes with it when Cas’ hand fully connects with his cheek and neck, because it brings him in close.

“Why aren’t you…?”

Grinning, Dean hooks his hands behind Cas’ knees and yanks, knocking the air out of him when Cas falls on his back, eyes wide. He grabs at Cas’ hands, stealing paint and just puts handprints wherever he can. He delights when Cas just surrenders and starts laughing, giggling helplessly as he attempts to bat Dean’s hands away and squirm out of reach.

“We’re gonna… Stop! Noes! We’re gonna rip the damn newspapers and it’ll be all over the floooooooor… Dean!”

Fair point that, cause he can already see part of the wooden floorboards.

Breathing harder, Dean holds off on the assault and rests his hands on Cas’ abdomen. His tummy is rising and falling rapidly under his palms and suddenly Dean’s acutely aware of how he has Cas’ legs wrapped around his waist. Dean’s handprints are all over him, but he sees Cas got him good in return.

Wiggling, Cas smiles up at him warmly. Invitingly even.

“So you wanna finish the paint job, is what you’re saying?” he asks, trying to keep a straight face.

He’s angling, wondering, and Cas’ face scrunches up.

“Yes. And you better help me get the paint out of my hair later.”

Hiding his disappointment, Dean snickers, disentangling himself from Cas and assessing the damage. They didn’t get as much done as he thought.

“This is taking longer than expected.”

Cas gets back on his feet, plucking at his shirt. It’s clinging to his torso here and there. “You don’t say?”

By the time they’re done, Cas looks like a Jackson Pollock painting.

*

They’re nearly done with dinner when he mentions it. Dean noticed it the moment Cas exited the bathroom in his pajamas. He didn’t get all the paint out.

Cas was starving though, which is a rare feat as such, because usually it’s Dean who’s food-obsessed. The paint job took them a lot longer than expected and for once time flew, so it was dark by the time Cas got out. Dealing with a hangry Cas is decidedly worse than a hangry Dean. Which meant food first.

The tension eases out of Cas’ face with every forkful. Dean gestures at him with his spoon. “There’s still paint in your hair.”

Cas’ hand flies up immediately and starts a searching path through his locks, then zoning in with accuracy in various spots. “Ugh, it’s crusty.”

Dean leans closer, wanting to reach out and touch it, because Cas is angling his head. He doesn’t. “You were in there for half an hour. How did you manage to miss that?”

“I don’t know,” Cas pouts. “I scrubbed, but maybe I didn’t feel it while my hair was still wet.”

Dean snorts softly. He eyes the lovely colors that are giving Cas’ hair a unique look. “You look like you put in one of those metallic hair dyes.”

Cas fidgets and whines softly. Maybe Dean should have been more careful. Cas likes himself and his stuff clean and neat, which makes it a wonder he’s willing to be at Dean’s place to begin with. And that Cas hasn’t thrown a fit for Dean’s littering tendencies, though to be fair, he’s been making an effort since the start of this quarantine. Last thing they need is a bust-up over daily maintenance.

“Want me to give you a hand?”

Cas grumbles, scraping the last of his food off the plate and then, lo’ and behold, licks it clean. A cat. He mutters from behind it between licks. “I told you you’d need to help.”

“You could have asked,” Dean grins, mesmerized by the view.

Cas’ eyebrows skyrocket, which is cute either way, but even more so because right now, he can only see the top half of Cas’ face and part of his tongue from behind the plate.

“I’ll remember that next time,” Cas smiles sweetly.

Dean swallows harder. When did Cas become such a flirt? He clears his throat, thumbing over his shoulder. “So shall we?”

*

“Alright, sink or tub?”

“Either, or, really.” Cas strips off his shirt and hmm, yes, that makes sense, but he didn’t expect it.

“Tub then,” Dean says, focusing his attention on the tap and the shower head.

He lets the water run, while Cas folds a towel double. He sits on his knees, folding his arms on the edge of the tub, watching Dean’s fingers as he waits for the water to reach the right temperature.

“This good?”

Cas reaches out his hand and flicks his wrist so the water runs down it and nods, smiling.

“Alright, come on then,” Dean hums.

Folding his hands over the edge, Cas bends forward, letting his head hang. Dean brings in the shower head, letting the water cascade through the dark tresses.

He loves Cas’ hair. Well, he loves Cas in his entirety, obviously, but he loves all the separate parts that make him up intensely. The strong column of his neck, now bared, as he has the perfect excuse to card his fingers through Cas’ hair again and again, making sure it’s soaked through and through. With every slow, deliberate gesture, he loses a bit more of himself to Cas.

His Cas.

Which is funny. Because it was never Dean who claimed Cas in any way. It was Cas. When they first met, Dean was the odd one out. Not overtly, because being what he was, an unruly brat on his way to jockhood, he didn’t lack attention (good and bad) or people to hang out with. But with the exception of Sam, he felt oddly empty on the inside when around them. None of those people ever felt real.

Until Cas joined his class in third grade. Quiet, awkward and unkempt. Neglected in different ways than Sam and Dean were.

Dean remembers they looked at each other, while Cas was made to stand in front of the group, hopelessly ill at ease. He remembers smiling at him and seeing that flicker in his eyes, as if he was grateful for just being smiled at. The other kids were starting to get weird about it, as soon as Cas said his full name and the teacher was bad at handling them. When Cas started looking downright afraid, like he was about to run, Dean figured he’d do something.

So he created a diversion.

He grabbed the class bully’s jacket (which was supposed to be in the hallway anyway) and tossed it out the open window. It wasn’t fair, because he knew that kid was having a hard time too, but he guessed he could salvage that later. If not, he’d stand his ground.

The class erupted in cheers and hoots, which made Cas smile and that was it for Dean. Their eyes met across the distance, as Dean was getting jostled by other kids leaning out the window. He grinned wildly at Cas. 

Of course, it got him in trouble in the playground (and at home later). Because of course the bully got to him. He pulled a few tricks his Dad taught him, but the bully had goons. That’s when Cas stood up for him, shoving the bully on his ass and pulling Dean up on his feet by the shoulder. He remembers Cas’ words perfectly.

“You can’t hurt him! That’s my Dean.”

In front of everyone, which is when Dean learned that there was a huge gaping hole inside him that needed affection. And he and Cas… yeah, that was forever.

He smiles at the memory, as he soaps up his hands and digs them into Cas’ hair, massaging his scalp.

Cas groans, twisting his head, and pushes into his touch. His eyes are closed which is a blessing and a shame all at once. Though perhaps right now, it is for the best, because Dean’s pretty sure his face is giving him away.

He holds his end of the deal though, focusing on all the places where the paint decided to stick to Cas’ hair. There’s so many of them, he wonders if Cas scrubbed at all. He holds that gentle balance between diligence and enjoying the moment, the latter only because Cas seems to be.

Cas scoots closer, pressing his arm and thigh into him. He isn’t sure, but he swears he hears him mumble stuff over the running water, like ‘more’ and ‘right there’. A stupid smile forms. He chuckles, earning a soft jostle in the thigh for it, which only has him grinning wider.

He’s almost sorry when he knows he’s done. When Dean knocks the tap closed, Cas almost jolts up, sloshing water as he goes.

“Hey, hold on,” he says, as he reaches for the drawers under the sink.

He pulls out a clean towel and Cas peeks at him sideways with a surprised smile. “You’re even gonna dry my hair?”

His heart leaps up at how soft Cas is being. “Can’t do a half-assed job, now can I?”

He throws the towel over Cas’ head to rub his hair dry, taking away the scrutiny he’s subjected to in the process. Why does it feel like he’s on quicksand?

Cas scoots around while Dean dries his hair and they move in unison, away from the edge of the tub to the bath mat. Cas’ hands come up around his wrists until they’re facing each other. It’s easier like this, Cas sitting between his squatted legs. His gestures slow down as the towel gets wetter. He lets go, hanging the towel over the edge of the tub.

“There,” he mutters. “How are you feeling?”

Cas smiles at him, eyes lidded, and Dean snickers as he gets to his feet. He extends a hand to help Cas, who takes it and feels the weight of him. Slow and languid, he has trouble getting to his feet with his usual elegance.

“Mmmh, very sleepy, it seems.”

“Well, your bed’s only a room away.”

Cas yawns as he leans on the sink and, with visible effort, forces himself to brush his teeth. Dean follows suit, though if it were just him, he wouldn’t have bothered. It’s while they’re both brushing their teeth, staring at each other in the mirror, that something seems to sink in.

Cas squints at him. “Wou cawnt sweep in dewe.”

“Whu’?”

Cas spits out the tooth paste and rinses his mouth. Putting down his tooth brush, he leans into Dean tiredly. “You can’t sleep in the spare room. The paint smell… Not healthy.”

Giving a slow nod, Dean rinses his mouth too, watching Cas’ head rest on his shoulder in the mirror. “Right.”

When there’s no reply, he jostles Cas gently and gets a groan in reply. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Sleep-drunk, Cas moves under his touch like water, as he maneuvers him through the hallway to the bedroom into his bed. He lights the lamp on the nightstand, which emits a warm yellow light. Cas rolls around in the sheets, pulling them around him, as he buries his face in his pillow. Dean’s lips form a mystified ‘o’ and he just stands there, staring while Cas squirms and scoots, until he settles down, giving Dean a three quarter view of a sprawled out, sleepy, messy-haired Cas.

And then Cas meets his eyes with a smile.

Inhaling sharply, Dean looks away, gaze bouncing across the room, and he clears his throat. “I’ll, uhh, go sleep on the couch.”

Cas’ hand snatches out, closing around his wrist loosely.

“No sleeping on the couch.”

It’s a couch bed, Dean wants to say. I’ll be fine, he wants to say.

Cas’ grip on his wrist tightens, when he tries to pull free.

“Don’t go. Please.”

But fuck, he’s a sucker.

He holds Cas’ gaze a while longer, searching for signs that Cas is out of it, but finds a remarkable clarity that belies the fatigue he displayed moments ago. When he nods his consent, Cas scrambles to make room, opening up the sheets and oh, how inviting that is. How gloriously beautiful and warm, Dean thinks, when he crawls into the bed. He clicks off the light, sinking them into comforting darkness.

They had plenty of sleepovers as kids, usually at Cas’ place, but you sorta grow out of those for various reasons. So this is the first time within his smitten reality they share a bed anew, both of them fully aware rather than passing out on the couch.

His nose almost twitches in curiosity as they move, their soft and oh so warm edges sliding against each other, looking for the comfiest spot, the right angle, bumping knees and hands, which has them giggling in the dark.

Eventually Cas slots to his side as Dean sinks into the mattress and pillow. He remains awake for a good while, staring up at the ceiling. He listens to Cas’ breathing, indulges in smelling his hair, while his face is stuck in a permanent, soft smile, until eventually he falls asleep as well.


	15. April 1st 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Squirming, he sees Cas swallow hard, a vulnerability leaking through. “Yeah, about that…”
> 
> Dean perks his ears, because in his experience sentences beginning with those words often carry surprises with them and in this case, he wants to bet on a good one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cuddles! These boys are taking it slow, alright, because Writer Laydee has brayn issues.
> 
> That and they've got some talking to do still.
> 
> *hums* Work is trying to force me to come in, even though I don't need to. Luxury issue, I'm aware (as in, I am able to work from home, which is a massive privilege), but it's skyrocketing my anxiety, because it's simply Dumb.
> 
> I hope you are all safe and sound. Know that you being here means a lot to me.
> 
> Love,  
> Mal

It’s pitch-dark when he wakes up to the tingly sensation of Cas’ warm breath in his neck.

Weird.

Intense, but weird.

A soft moan escapes him, when he becomes aware of Cas’ almost silky, warm hand _ under  _ his shirt, sliding up and down his ribs, the fingertips catching on his skin. Instantly he wants more and his arms come up and around Cas of their own accord, who presses himself flush to him. His mind lights up like the heavens on the 4 th of July, as he lets his hands wander across Cas’ skin to the small of his back. And he wants. So much more than this.

His voice makes it through the desperate need that’s begging him to flip Cas on his back and kiss him into oblivion. “Mmh, Cas?”

Cas hums sleepily into the shell of his ear, his breath puffing out faster on a slow smile. “Hello, Dean.”

Fucking hell, where did that voice come from?

“You’re awake,” he mumbles.

Cas stops moving, freezing in place, his nose to the bolt of Dean’s jaw. Dean can feel their combined heartbeats pulsing at every point of contact. “Oh, you noticed.”

When Cas moves again, it’s to entwine their legs and Dean squeezes his eyes shut, when his dick gets friction against Cas’ thigh and he loses all hope of hiding that. Cas pulls at him in the same moment and Dean goes with it, sliding his leg between Cas’. When he finds proof of Cas’ arousal and presses down on him, Cas shakes in his arms, moaning as he clutches onto Dean’s shoulders.

And, hell, his world is shifting so fast, he needs to get a hold before it slips out of his grasp in the same breath.

He closes his hands around Cas’ hips, forcing both of them to a halt. His breath comes ragged and he squeezes down harder, when Cas mewls and resists him. Cas’ hands slide up his chest, coming up on either side of his face and it forces Dean to look at him.

Cas’ brows are knit together in frustration, his lips wet, because he’s been licking them. His expression draws Dean in. He’s never seen it on Cas’ face, which is why it takes him a minute to recognize the desire oozing off him. Cas struggles against him, which is triggering other instincts that really need to take a backseat right now. “Dean… Why are you…?”

A desperate laugh wrenches itself out, because Cas has exasperated impudence written all over his body and face. “Holy shit, Cas… I thought you didn’t like being touched.”

Cas blinks at him, eyes blazing. “What?”

Yeah, no, anger or confusion won’t do. “You… I mean… What? Don’t tell me you’re not aware?”

His fingers caress Dean’s cheekbones before vanishing, which, in its distracting tenderness, makes him loosen his grip a bit. Cas’ tone dips into something dark and tight wound, as he moves and shit, he can feel that  _ everywhere _ . “Aware of what, Dean?”

His own voice breaks, so he clears his throat trying to find it back sufficiently. “Of all the times we hugged or touched and…”

Cas arches his back, sending another interesting jolt of pure energy running through him and Dean’s beginning to think he is doing it on purpose now? He purses his lips so hard, he knows his dimples are showing, and Cas smiles at him sweetly when he notices, hands sliding down Dean’s neck as his gaze skitters over Dean’s face in that soft, warm, tangible way his skin tingles. He digs his teeth into his lower lip and Dean doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.

He pushes the matter, scowling in the face of such blatant flirtations. “You always sort of disengage… retreat. There was a time where you jerked away as if burned, though that stopped.”

Squirming, he sees Cas swallow hard, a vulnerability leaking through. “Yeah, about that…”

Dean perks his ears, because in his experience sentences beginning with those words often carry surprises with them and in this case, he wants to bet on a good one.

“It’s not that I don’t like touch, Dean.” His tone is almost petulant and Dean’s heart kicks it from zero to sixty in 0.2 seconds. “I like touch. A lot. But only from a very, very, ridiculously short list of people, who I trust with my life.”

“Yeah,” Dean nods, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. “Yeah, yeah, I get that.”

He makes to let go of Cas, because that’s what that means, right? Dean has to back off. He zones in on Cas’ face, when he grabs onto Dean, a lot fucking stronger than he ever gave his friend credit for.

“But I was scared if I accepted your touches, I wouldn’t be able to stop.”

He works his lips around a few emotions at once, none of them quite translating into word sounds.

“Is this an April Fool’s joke?”

Cas looks confused, his touch vanishing, clearly not keeping track of the days anymore, so Dean shakes his head, willing the dumb remark away.

“Cas, you… want… to be touched?”

Cas’ voice is intensely loud and greedy in the silence, so low Dean’s core vibrates with it. “By you.  _ Yes.” _

A greedy sound betraying him, Dean’s hands are moving of their own accord, his body catching up to the intent much faster than his brain. That and he knows he needs explicit consent. He lets them wander across the warmth of Cas’ abdomen, gentle but present. Cas’ gaze flicks sideways when he feels it, tilting into Dean the next second. Their gazes are caught on the movement of Dean’s arms, their attention on the sound of skin running over fabric as they move.

“… So why exactly was fear of accepting my touch a deterrent?” Dean whispers on a low rumble.

“Because I thought you couldn’t like me that way?”

A rush of heat spikes through him. It’s too dark to see the details in Cas’ face, which makes everything more intense and impatience follows closely on the heel of that impossible, almost painful need that’s quickly overtaking his whole body. One hand falls back to Cas’ hip, his fingers finding purchase there and there’s that minute shifting again  _ into his touch. _

“Mmmh, Dean…” A soft moan spills from Cas’ lips and he can feel the warmth of his breath on his own, and fucking hell, he’s gonna lose it. “Dean, please say something.”

“I… Fuck, yes,” Dean mutters. He’s so caught up in the proximity of Cas and the implications of what he’s saying, that he’s forgetting his words. They all but trip over each other on their way out, as he prattles. “I like you that way, Cas, I’ve liked you that way for a really long time.”

The sigh Dean lets out is long and heartfelt. It feels good to have that out in the open. The world literally seems lighter for it. Laughing softly around a wanton sound, Cas fingerwalks his hand up his chest, which, uhh, what the fucking tease is this?

“Which is likely the understatement of the year,” Dean adds, eyes losing sight of the fingers that are now at his clavicle and sliding up his neck. “Oh, fucking hell… Cas.”

He tilts his head back, delighting the feel of Cas’ surprisingly cool fingers on his furnace skin.

“So this is okay?”

Dean laughs, his breath hitching through it desperately. “Yeah, Cas, it is. It’s more than okay.”

His own hands are busying themselves and he slides them over Cas’ ribs to his chest, forcing himself to look at Cas as he does. “Is this too?” he asks, voice dipping low.

Oh, there it is… Even in the dark, he can see Cas’ gaze heat up, his cheeks flustering, as he inches into Dean’s touch with a delectable moan. He’s certain Cas picked up on that voice before. Cas’ teeth flash pearly white as he bites down on his lower lip and nods. Just a nod. Which, yes, he wants to take as sufficient answer, but he knows his Cas.

“Keep me apprised, Cas,” Dean says.

He gets a curious head tilt for that, which shifts to rapidly batting eyelashes and a beautiful ‘o’ to those gorgeous lips, when Dean flattens his hands on Cas’ lower back and slowly tracks them up. His brain lights up with how responsive Cas is to his touch as his arms come around Dean’s neck.

“Tell me – when – to back off,” Dean says, enunciating the words.

He stops his hands to force Cas’ attention, receiving an annoyed mewl and a tremble in response, which has Dean cocking his jaw to the side, his tongue flicking over his molars, because it’s so hot and perfect and he wants to try too much at once, just to find out how Cas reacts to him.

“Cas?” he says meaningfully.

Their eyes meet like they have so many times before, but everything’s different, with a world held at bay, their parts rearranging around each other.

“Dean,” Cas smiles on a loving sigh, his eyes soft and alight and begging for more.

His slender fingers card through Dean’s hair, finding soft spots all too easily. Likely because Dean is one giant soft spot right now.

“I get it, but I won’t.” Cas shakes his head to emphasize, squirming under Dean’s hands to get him to move. He presses their chests together, his lips grazing Dean’s, as his hands slide to either side of Dean’s face, fingers tracing the shells of his ears. He squeezes down on Dean’s earlobes, and yeah, sure, that’s new, that works. They slide further down and come to rest over his heart.

“Dean… Kiss me. Please.”

Dean brings his arms around Cas’ waist, pulling him closer, before he leans over him. He allows himself a crooked smile, because hell, he did not expect to find himself in bed like this with Cas in this lifetime or the next. Nor to hear those words from Cas’ lips.

An explosive huff makes it past them. He frowns at Cas’ aggravation.

“I swear, if you look at me like a deer caught in headlights one more time, Dean Winchester, I’m making this decision for you. Unless you don’t want to kiss me?”

There’s so much hidden beneath those words, he instantly stores it, because he’s beyond talking. He smiles, the tension in his chest easing up with the headiness of the moment. Cas lets out a relieved, hitched sigh when Dean inches closer, slow and deliberate, holding Cas’ gaze all the way until he softly captures his lips.

His lips are slightly parted when he does, teasing Cas’ lower lip between them as their breaths mingle. The skin, warm and wet, catches and they’re stuck on each other. The sound he makes is destitute, soft, searching, unlike any other he’s made in his life and Cas responds in kind, gorgeously so. He wraps around Dean, burying his fingers in his hair, and holds nothing back, their legs sliding together. His breath is so warm with a hint of mint flickering through as it ghosts into Dean’s mouth.

Cas inhales deeply through parted lips, as if he’s trying to breathe in Dean’s very essence, so he gives him more, dipping his tongue in. He’s flooded with happy hormones when Cas’ flavor hits, relieved to hear a similar, shaky sentiment in the sounds Cas makes. Whimpering, he breathes out roughly through his nose pressed into Dean’s cheek and the space between them gets warm the way the wooden floor in Cas’ office does, caught behind the glass in an early spring sun.

Poetry has nothing on this. Not to him. Dean remains at heart a simple man.

He surrenders to his Cas.


	16. April 2nd 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean squints at the curtains. It’s well into morning and somewhat overcast by the looks of it, which suits him just fine, because he doesn’t want to leave the bed. His stomach is growling and his dick is hard and fuck, that should be uncomfortable, but laughter is bubbling up from his chest, like a fountain of warmth erupting into sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow but steady for these two?
> 
> Make sure you drink enough water, have some fruit (I suuuuuck, but baked brownies, chocolate is fruit too), and be kind to yourself.
> 
> Much love,  
> Mal

Dean’s never been much of a morning person.

He doesn’t need a lot of sleep and he sort of… functions, provided there is enough coffee around and people don’t hope to interact.

Waking up now, however, is a delight. The second day in a row in Cas’ bed. And there is a Cas sprawled on top of him, deep in his sleep, judging by the slow, steady breathing that’s making his back rise and fall under Dean’s hands. He sniffs Cas’ hair, wondering how it’s possible for a person to smell like the warmth of a home he never really had. Not in the classical sense of the word.

Cas smells as if the universe is now Dean’s home, the heavens and stars included.

As soon as he moves, he hears a soft ‘mrrrr’, which he initially thinks is Cas. He tries to look at his face, realizing it wasn’t him and his gaze is drawn down, where he finds Claire curled up in a ball next to his leg. He huffs softly and drops his head back, rolling his eyes.

“Of course you snuck in.”

Well, sneaking. They simply forgot to close the door, because they were so caught up in each other. Yesterday was spent in a haze. They woke up near noon. Dean cooked up a huge breakfast, Cas all but glued to his side, being entirely unhelpful in the way he kept distracting him. For a while they tried to pretend that they didn’t both want to return to bed. They went for a walk. Hand in hand, this time. Kissing Cas in full daylight, a blue sky overhead and no one around… it was beautiful. And after dinner, they repeated the bathroom routine, foregoing books and games, and instead crawled back into bed together.

Dean squints at the curtains. It’s well into morning and somewhat overcast by the looks of it, which suits him just fine, because he doesn’t want to leave the bed. His stomach is growling and his dick is hard and fuck, that should be uncomfortable, but laughter is bubbling up from his chest, like a fountain of warmth erupting into sound.

He stifles it, because he doesn’t want to wake up Cas, but he’s jostling him either way. Which maybe he should have done sooner, because it provokes Cas into nuzzling into his chest cutely, making adorable sounds.

“Mhh, hotshot, stahp.”

Dean whines when Cas nips at his nipple and squirms, poking a finger into his thick hair. “Hey! What the hell? Good morning to you too, angel.”

Cas hums sweetly, burrowing into his chest some more and looks up, resting his chin on his hand. He looks sleep-warm and soft, eyes crinkling. And stupidly at ease with the amount of skin touching between them, which Dean still is trying to wrap his head around.

“Mmmorning,” he mumbles, stretching up until their lips meet in a shaky kiss.

The feeling of  _ ‘home’ _ blooming in Dean’s chest is so intense it hurts, his brow knitting together, and he whimpers into Cas’ mouth. All that he is has become a raw nerve. He’s glad he doesn’t have to face work or the outside world, because he doubts he could leave Cas’ side.

When they break the kiss, Cas settles back down on his chest. Dean lets his knuckles graze his cheekbone, his thumb drawing the softest circles he can, and he frowns in wonder, when he remembers what Cas said.

“Why would I not like you this way?” he asks, searching Cas’ face.

Cas’ eyes widen and he blinks, trying to chase the sleepiness from them.

“Ah, shit, sorry,” Dean mumbles, leaning in to press an apologetic kiss to Cas’ forehead. Cas squints one blue eye shut. “Forget it…”

Cas huffs at him and surges forward. Another kiss. He’s never going to get enough of those. Not after waiting for so long. He rests his cheek on his hand and Dean finds himself tilting his head slightly too, so they’re caught in each other’s gaze.

“Because you’re so tactile… and I’m decidedly not. Not standard anyway. It’s been an issue in the past.”

Dean nods, chewing the inside of his cheek. He remembers Lucifer all too well and, holy shit, all of a sudden a lot of what Cas said in veiled terms makes a different kind of painful sense. And he regrets letting Sam talk him out of ‘paying Lucifer a visit’, after the bastard dumped Cas.

“Hmm,” he hums, remembering how bad it had been. 

Dean digs his fingers into Cas’ hair, wanting to make up for every wrong. Cas seems to enjoy that a lot, because he goes limp almost instantly. Well, even more. The weight of him is bliss and Dean groans in appreciation. Cas’ eyes flutter shut on a delightful moan.

“You’ll get the touches you want when you want them,” Dean promises. He plants a kiss with every word, anointing the vow to Cas’ skin. “I’ll respect any boundary you set and hear what you want to explore.”

“Everything,” Cas whispers.

He chuckles darkly, thinking Cas isn’t fully cognizant of what Dean gets up to. Though in all honesty, he isn’t sure how much of that he wants or even needs to explore with Cas. That’s a whole conversation in its own right.

Still…

“Careful, Cas,” he teases.

The laugh he earns for that is low and enticing, and has him looking down at him in curiosity. All of Cas is moving over him, his hands dragging over his flanks, his legs straddling him, pressing their warm torsos together. Dean presses his shoulders into the mattress, resisting the urge to roll his hips, because Cas’ expression is pure challenge.

“Hmmm, just how naïve do you think I am, hotshot?”

He grins, sensing he might be going out of his depth for a moment. “No naivety, Cas. There’s just stuff I don’t broadcast either.”

Cas laughs, a delightful sound so close he can feel it ripple through him. “I love that you think you could hide stuff from me. How long have we known each other?”

He drops down on one elbow to free up his hand and traces it over Cas’ thigh, settling in to rub soft circles on his hip bone. When Cas frowns at him, because, yes, he is trying to distract him, Dean winks and lets his gaze drop back down. Cas’ hips buck under the teasing touch.

Under a soft snarl, Cas turns Dean’s head so they’re facing each other.

“Since the 3 rd grade,” Dean replies, leaning in to graze their lips together.

“Uh-huhmmm,” Cas hums, surrendering to a sweet, chaste kiss. “So when you developed your interest in the BDSM scene while in our senior year, did you honestly think I’d not notice?”

“I thought I was being subtle…”

“Oh, you were,” Cas smiles, then tilts his head to each side as he rolls his eyes. “Sorta. There was just something about the swagger in your step as you got more comfortable in your own body.”

Dean huffs, trying to hide the sudden full body blush, but that’s rich, because they’re half naked in each other’s arms, morning wood a thorough distraction. He glowers slightly when Cas laughs softly.

“Dean, you were to die for,” Cas says, voice tighter, eyes doing a trick he’s never quite seen them do before. “You were… It’s hard to describe, but, god, you were something. That’s when I wished…” Cas shakes his head, lips pursed. “When I  _ realized…” _

Dean finds a sudden vulnerability in Cas’ expression, tugging the corners of his mouth down. Perhaps a dash of fearful curiosity, as he tries to read Dean’s face. But then Dean starts adding two and two together to end up with…

“Oh, because you… That’s why you thought I wouldn’t like you…?”

“Borderline asexual at the time,” Cas says, words tumbling to Dean’s collarbone, before he reappears, filling his vision. “Which is partly right. Demisexual, is my guess, because it all comes down to how connected I feel to someone. So I didn’t think I stood any chance with the likes of you.”

“The likes of me,” Dean scoffs.

“You were deep into it for a while. A good while.”

“I was. Past tense being the key there.”

Cas flutters his lashes at him, forehead relaxing in hopeful wonder.

“The likes of me,” Dean smiles meaningfully, “hasn’t scened in years.”

That draws Cas in, a flicker of hope in his eyes. The tilt to his voice betrays him further, because Cas’ voice shakes, and Dean’s heart clenches. “Why’s that?”

It’s almost too easy.

He slides two fingers from Cas’ temple down his cheek until they’re under his chin and he can tilt his face up to meet his eyes. “You, angel. Why else?”


	17. April 3rd 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dean-o! How are you?”
> 
> “I am excellent,” he says, hearing his own voice betray him, as it oozes with fondness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic started off as the one where I wanted Dean and Cas to call Cas' granny while in quarantine, with said granny then unsubtly revealing some stuff. We're well past that point, so I'm not sure where this story is going from here on out, but I will keep balancing fluff with days like this one. Often they reflect some of my own experiences (either mine or loned ones') in some form.
> 
> I'm fond of real time posting. In the current climate it's a touch odd. I have other ideas, but a) no energy to get to them and b) I don't want to post them in this climate!
> 
> Right, enough rambling. Be safe and good to yourselves, my lovelies.  
> Hugs,  
> Mal

He hears Gabe’s voice on speaker in the living room, which is as good as a distress signal. The phone call pulled Cas away from finishing up the painting job, which they sort of lost track of for a while after… y’know.

He puts the roller down and, making sure there’s no paint on his feet, pads his way to Cas. When Claire almost wanders into the room, undoubtedly hell-bent on stepping into the paint and leaving toe bean footprints everywhere, he hurries to close it.

She mewls at him in protest and takes up a haughty position on the top level of her scratching post.

“What do you mean, you were too busy to call? With what?”

Dean grins when he sees Cas’ expression. He’s not very good at lying, but if he’s anywhere close to a similar mindset as Dean, he wants to keep this to himself for now. Cocooned. Safe. Theirs.

“We’re painting the spare bedroom!” Dean calls out.

“Dean-o! How are you?”

“I am excellent,” he says, hearing his own voice betray him, as it oozes with fondness.

Gabriel snickers. “Glad to hear it.”

“How about you? All healed up?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

“What was it?” Cas asks, his leg jiggling restlessly.

“No idea. They didn’t test me and I’m cured now, so…”

It’s hard not to picture him shrugging.

“Will you need to go back in?”

“Sadly, yes. Though the amateurism is through the roof in terms of communication. One ladder up the chain wants me to come in. The one above that tells me to work from home, unless in an emergency, but doesn’t give clear indications what constitutes one. And I have half a mind just to take unpaid leave until the worst of it is over.”

“I can’t blame you. You’ve been meaning to reassess the situation for a while,” Cas says gently, eyes flicking to Dean.

It’s a point of frustration and contention for Gabe. He doesn’t belong where he’s working, but his hands are tied. They can’t afford him just losing his job and whatever he’s been applying for falls too far outside his current skill set or degree for companies to risk hiring him.

“I know,” Gabe mutters. “I don’t quite know where to start… and I…”

Cas frowns and Dean’s heart clenches at the amount of defeat in Gabe’s voice. Of the four of them, he never expected this… Dean stands closer to Cas, his eyes falling down to their hands when Cas’ fingers twitch and curls into his.

“You’re tired,” Cas says. “Am I right?”

“So fucking tired.”

For a moment, they’re both stunned at Gabe’s admission and don’t know what to say. It’s as if the silent space held invites Gabriel to fill it.

“It’s just… Everyone’s going on and on about how to put this time to good use and I have been, I think, but… I feel guilty for not doing more or not doing enough to change my situation or the world at large. Like we should be doing more on a bigger scale, because it’s such a clusterfuck… but it’s nothing like the movies, where the rebellion rises and makes it in time.”

When Gabe’s voice gives out, Dean exchanges a worried look with Cas.

“Gabe, take a breath,” Cas says. “Can you take a few slow, deep breaths for me?”

For once, Gabe obeys instantly. Dean whisper-mouths quietly, asking if Gabe’s felt this way before, and Cas shakes his head. He’s thinking fast of Gabe’s exact surroundings and leans closer to the phone.

“Gabe, buddy,” Dean says. “Put your hands on that kitchen counter of yours and rub your fingers over it. The texture will help.”

“Rubbing my fingers over the counter? I’d rather…”

Grimacing, Cas is about to open his mouth, but Dean shakes his head. For Gabe to suffer what seems to be his first ever panic attack without Sam being home to help him through it, he’s bound to resort to his deflections. There’s a soft hitch in Gabe’s breathing and a really long exhale follows. It remains quiet for a while.

“Gabe…?”

There’s the sound of fingertips drumming on a counter. “I’m fine, you guys, it’s okay.”

Cas sighs in relief. “You sure? Wanna switch to video call for a bit?”

“Yeah, we can play charades until Sam’s home,” Dean smiles.

“And who would I be playing those with? The mirror?”

“No, you do the thing. We’ll guess.”

“I think I’ll pass.”

“It’s okay to be tired right now, Gabe. And feel this way,” Cas says.

Dean knows Cas is talking to himself too, hell, perhaps even to Dean, because they’ve been avoiding some of the harder stuff. Gabe’s right. There’s so much out of control, it’s hard to regain it beyond daily life. Beyond getting dressed and showered and eating. Painting rooms.

Dean’s in the best possible place he can be in the best possible company.

And in light of recent events, there’s plenty of serotonin to go round.

It doesn’t change the reality outside or the impact it has, both on them within their bubble and the world.

His ears twitch when he hears Cas’ admission and he slides his arm around Cas’ waist instinctively.

“I’ve been getting less assignments too. It’s tangible everywhere… This is when I wish I’d studied something besides languages. Who needs those, right?”

There’s a gentle scoff. “People need stories now, Cassie. If you’ve got the energy for it.”

They’re alike in their kindness, Cas and Gabe, Dean thinks. Perhaps it’s a family trait.

Cas’ eyebrow quirks up and he sounds playful and fatigued at the same time, a beautiful fluster rising up from the collar of his shirt. “I feel like being in bed most of the day.”

Gabriel chuckles softly on the other end. “Then maybe that’s what you should do.”

“What’ll you do until Sam gets home?”

“Well, I started learning Russian on Duolingo.”

Cas snickers, looking relatively smug all of a sudden. “How’s that going for you?”

“Like crap. I don’t know how you did it,” Gabe sighs. “And I’ve been watching ‘The Bold And The Beautiful’ without sound, adding my own dialogue.”

Dean barks a laugh. “Sam must really love you if he puts up with that. He loathes soaps.”

“You have no idea what I bring to the table besides those little blessings,” Gabe says, audibly smiling.

Not for the first time, Dean’s impressed with the relentless strength the Novaks possess in the face of their challenges. Neither of them had it easy growing up and everything they have, they worked hard for.

“We don’t need a run-down,” Cas says quickly.

“You sure? You can learn a thing or two.”

“We’re good, Gabe,” Dean grins. “Trust me.”

“Love you, Gabe,” Cas smiles on a fond eye roll. “Give Sam a hug from us.”

“It’s become ‘us’, has it?”

“Call Granny, will you? Bye, Gabe.”

“Sure thing. Bye, you two. And thanks.”

Cas lets out an explosive sigh after Gabe hangs up.

“At this rate, we’ll never finish that room.”

“Silver lining, it’s not like I need to sleep there…”

Cas looks up, eyes twinkling. “True.”

“What would you like to eat tonight?”

“Pastas,” Cas says without hesitation. “With lots of cheese. Do we have spinach?”

“Oooh,” Dean hums in approval. “Cream… Is cream okay?”

Licking his lips, Cas nods, which has Dean smiling. 

“Okay, so cream, some lemon juice, spinach… Maybe if we have pine nuts and parmesan?”

“Don’t know if we have the nuts.”

Waggling his eyebrows, Dean rubs his hands, looking forward to it already. A simple, heartwarming meal, which they can pour into bowls and eat on the couch, cuddled up.

Cas traces a finger up his arm. “Noms on the couch?”

“You read my mind, angel.”

“I can get used to that…”

Dean isn’t sure which ‘that’ Cas means, but any of them sounds about right. Calling Cas ‘angel’. Cooking and sharing food together. Cuddles.

Eyes softening, Cas steps into his space, melting into him. What else is there to do for Dean but wrap his arms around him and allow himself to get lost in the moment?


	18. April 4th 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So when you said all I had to do for a hug was snap my fingers, does that work for kisses and the like too?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all lucked out. Because for a while there, my brain was going NOPE to anything and everything smut-related, but here we are. (So I went and handled the smut for Heavenly too, while I was at it.)
> 
> On the other hand, if you rather skip it, you can. There will be more fluff tomorrow.
> 
> Fatigue is persistent *curls into a bally and snoozes* send me some lurv if you've got the energy for it. I appreciate you all being here for their story!
> 
> Love you. Keep safe and weird.  
> Mal

Some things get easier.

It’s like they’ve found a reason to genuinely unwind. Surrender to a unique period in time and space, carved out by chance, where they can give in to doing nothing but be around each other without remorse. This endless ocean of time, they’ll likely never get this again, which puts them squarely in the lucky part of humanity.

So they indulge.

Cas has less work, which is a source of anxiety and as it turns out, the best remedy seems to be affection. For both of them.

Dean’s pleased as punch they folded up the couch bed. If they hadn’t, Cas would not be lying between his legs, head on his chest. The sunlight’s soaking them in her warmth, as if she’s trying to get in on the affection. On top of that, Dean’s hands are free to roam and wander, teasing under the hem of Cas’ oversized light sweater, squeezing his biceps through the soft fabric and kneading that stress-related sore spot between his shoulders.

Perfect.

Even more so when Cas makes noise.

He loves the sounds he can elicit out of Cas.

Appreciative hums that vibrate through him.

Impatient sweet grunts when Dean doesn’t take a hint as Cas tries to squirm his hands into obedience.

It’s gotten to the point where Dean lets that impatience simmer, until Cas bossily moves his hands where he wants them. Best way to learn.

Soft huffs of warm breath on his neck or at his ear, that turn to the tiniest moans and whispers.

He often can’t make them out, but that’s fine, because the intent behind them is always the same.

Cas loves Dean’s touch.

How can he deny him that? And what more can he ask for?

Cas pushes his nose into his chest, inhaling deeply, then rubs each cheek into the fabric, which makes Dean chuckle softly.

“You’re such a cat.”

“And you somehow smell like coriander and chocolate.”

“How oddly specific…”

“But _so_ good…”

Cas lets out a content sigh and moves, so they can see each other, sliding their legs together intimately. He tilts his head at Dean, clearly occupied. His tongue peeks out between his lips, as he licks the lower one and bites down on it.

Dean purses his lips, curiosity winning out over everything else. The smile Cas shoots him has his heart flip-flopping pleasantly.

“So when you said all I had to do for a hug was snap my fingers, does that work for kisses and the like too?”

Chuckling, Dean’s eyebrows shoot up indulgently at Cas’ faux-innocent tone. Even more so when his eyes track Cas’ moving hand, hiding in his sleeve until it lands on Dean's chest. With a gentle flick of his wrist, fingers peek out of the sleeve. Cas tilts his head, holding Dean’s eyes, and his vision blurs, his focus switching from Cas to his fingers and back, and in the seconds that takes him, charged energy crackles in the air.

Dean’s eyes widen, when Cas snaps his fingers. He’s pure instinct when he uses the strength of his legs to bump Cas up, knocking a surprised giggle out of him, and pulls him into a deep kiss. With a pleased moan, Cas moves willingly, scooting up until he’s straddling one of Dean’s legs. His hand rakes up Dean’s flanks, rucking up his shirt in the process, so he feels the warmth of Cas’ abdomen on his skin.

Cas chuckles softly into his mouth, breath warm, tongue blessedly teasing. “I guess that works.”

Dean grunts gently, sliding his hands down Cas’ sides until they fit around his hips. He juts his chin out, nipping at Cas’ lips until he captures the lower one between his teeth. It sends Cas whimpering and rutting down on his thigh, giving him friction in the process.

Groaning deeply, Dean releases him, lapping his tongue over the sensitive spot in apology. “You’re the only person in this universe who gets to snap their fingers at me and get what they want.”

Cas wrinkles his nose, stealing closed-lipped kisses. “I was teasing.”

“I’m not, though I’d prefer not to have you snap your fingers at me the whole time.”

“Because you don’t want kisses and the like?”

Dean laughs, wiggling from side to side so Cas’ sinks down on him more comfortably. “Mmh, define _‘the like’,_ Cas, cause that’s twice you said that.”

Sitting up, Cas purses his lips, as his hands slide down Dean’s chest and his fingers dig into the softness of his belly. There’s that interesting uptick to his eyebrow, which releases butterflies in Dean’s chest. His blue eyes are like storms of paint in a glass of water.

“Sex, Dean. Fucking. Making love to you,” he adds on an impish smile. “However you want to phrase it.”

Dean blinks, unable to fight back the stupid smile that’s forming at Cas’ straightforwardness. He's distracted by Cas' fingers massaging him, fingertips dipping under his waistband, his expression one of challenging desire.

“Do you need to tie me up? Hold me down? Do I need to submit?”

His mind sets off different kinds of fireworks at the visuals that throws up.

“Sonova… Cas, that’ll do,” he groans, digging his fingers into Cas’ skin. “Potentially yes and no to all of that, depending on your wants and needs. If you truly want a conversation, we’ll carve out the time. Goading me ain’t how that works.”

There’s a cocky smile that falters rapidly, as Cas stills in his lap, looking unsure. Dean reaches up and caresses his cheek.

“Cas, I have no intention of bringing any of that into this… us, by default.”

“But what if I’m curious?”

Dean teases his teeth with his tongue, forcing himself to think rather than take control. “I’m all ears, when we’re not in the middle of this. But,” he says, lowering his voice as he tugs Cas closer, “By all means, angel, tell me what you want…”

“I want you happy.”

Dean’s cheeks heat up at the deceptively simple words and what they imply on Cas’ end, wondering where his mind is going.

“Holy hell, Cas, this right here?” He squeezes down on Cas’ hip, dipping in for a kiss. He brings one hand to the back of Cas’ neck and presses their foreheads together, holding his eyes. “This is happiness. Poetry. Everything else is a bonus. Whatever bar you’re setting, let it go. You’re enough, you’re perfect.. I lo…”

Cas whimpers and grabs his face, kissing Dean with zeal. His eyes slide shut and there’s that twisting, blessed ache under his sternum again. The fervor behind it runs deeper than touch, far deeper than the way their tongues entwine, down to their very core and Cas lowers himself, pressing their chests together.

He gives Cas the lead in a few subtle ways.

Removal of clothing. Position.

In every other way, he takes what Cas is willing to give, which turns out to be a lot more than Dean expected. He isn’t a patient man at heart, though he’s empathic enough to intuitively find his way around people. Certain people. His Cas… their bond extends far and deep enough for him to always, always give him the space he needs.

Only to find Cas crowding his space. All hot hands and ardent kisses.

When Cas sits up and peels his sweater off, arms stuck above his head for a moment, Dean surges forward, taking advantage of the delightfully vulnerable position he’s put himself in. Dean wraps his arms around him, sucking Cas’ nipple into his mouth. For a moment, he twists one hand into the fabric, effectively immobilizing Cas, and extends his senses as he teases the sensitive flesh into his mouth.

A surprised yelp is torn from Cas and his first reflex is to struggle, but it peters out to a deep moan. Cas grinds his hips down on him, letting his sweater-entangled arms rest behind his head, giving into Dean's hold. Dean looks up and finds Cas, rolling his head back, eyes closed, lips parted in surrender.

“Mmmh, Dean, yes… Oh, yes…”

Feeling the soft bud pebble under his tongue, he bites down, Cas’ eyes flying open. Tensing his muscles, Dean lets go, sliding his hands over Cas' chest. Cas struggles with his sweater, throwing it away, so he can bury his hands in Dean’s hair, urging him on mutely. He blows forgiving air over the tender skin, before kissing a hot trail to the other one. His dick is going from hard to rock-hard, as Cas grinds down on him with overwhelming abandon.

Dean imagined this. It’d be a lie to pretend he hadn’t or that he didn’t suffer the guilt for it.

His imagination was lacking.

They respond to each other in ways he never could have predicted. He’s trembling from his core when he looks up, caught helplessly in Cas’ heated gaze, as if his soul is trying to reach out and connect over and over and over.

“Ahhhh, Cas, Cas, Cas,” he rambles as he places endless kisses, swept up in the intensity of his feelings.

His name’s fed back to him when Cas kisses him and squirms in his lap, tugging at their slacks. Dean snickers, when Cas half stumbles off the couch, grabbing on to Dean’s shoulder for support, and gets impatient when Dean’s slacks aren’t fully cooperative. Dean lifts his hips, relieved at the cooler air on his skin, because everything is beginning to feel warm and sweaty in the sunlight.

Dean wishes he could take his time to drink in the view, but Cas crawls back into his lap, draping himself over him. Dean slides his hands over Cas' strong thighs, traveling up until he has two hands full of his ass. He massages them, pulling them apart, as he plunges his tongue in Cas' mouth.

“Ohhhh, fuck, Dean,” Cas groans.

He breaks the kiss, rolling his hips, their dicks slapping together and Dean reaches one hand around on instinct, wrapping a hand around the both of them, then thinking better of it.

“Cas,” he mutters, “Lube..”

“Coffee table drawer.”

Cas leans sideways, holding onto his shoulder, Dean chasing him to plant kisses wherever he can reach, which distracts Cas delightfully. He fumbles with the drawer, shooting Dean a bit of a look, which would work even better if he was wearing his glasses, but alas. Near non-stop cuddles means Cas doesn’t wear them a lot.

Dean moans when Cas’ fingers slide into his hair and twist into it. It provokes a cocked eyebrow and Cas smiles at him in such sweet surrender. He presses the bottle into Dean’s hands and leans over him again, licking a trail over his lips, which part smoothly.

He works the bottle blind with one hand, squirting a generous amount into his hand, before he drops it onto the couch. He’s making a bit of a mess, but it’s going to get messier still and Cas doesn’t seem to care, so Dean can’t find it in him either. He slips his hand between them, lining Cas’ dick up with his own and closes his hand around them.

A languid stroke has them moaning warmly into each other’s open mouths. Dean repeats the gesture, tightening his grip when he gets near the tips, sliding his thumb over Cas’ slit. Cas bucks into the touch and it’s like a furnace gets lit.

“Oh, god, Dean… I’ve wanted you for too long…”

“Cas, angel… ahh, you have no idea how long,” he whispers.

Cas’ expression is pure desire, with a tinge of soft annoyance. “Kinda being idiots, huh?”

“I’ll make up for it,” he promises in a low voice.

Cas laughs, which deteriorates into a greedy moan, when Dean releases their dicks and slides his hand to Cas’ ass, pressing into his hole tentatively. He’s a touch surprised when his finger slips in quite easily and he raises a curious eyebrow.

Cas presses his hands into his chest and up, finding leverage so he can arch his back and push into the touch harder. The smile he shoots Dean with glazed eyes is tell-tale. “Yeah,” he says, “You feel that…?”

Snarling softly, Dean lets his other hand graze up Cas’ flank, pinching a nipple between his thumb and index finger, relishing how Cas bucks into his hand willingly, so he slips more fingers in, scissoring them. Cas drops his head back, sliding back and forth over Dean’s dick, whimpering beautifully.

“Fuuuuck, Cas, you’re gorgeous. So beautiful…”

One of Cas’ hands trails up to grab Dean’s other hand and bring it up to his face, sucking three fingers into his mouth. Dean’s voice about gives out and he’s not even inside Cas yet.

Lost. Utterly lost.

And so compatible, Dean’s brain will likely short-circuit before they’re done.

“Dean,” he moans around his digits, tongue circled the sensitive pads, “I want to feel you..”

Dean groans, removing his fingers from Cas’ mouth reluctantly, as he pats around for the lube. With another generous amount, he jacks himself off slowly, smiling when he sees how that holds Cas’ attention and he takes the moment to get his own eyeful. His hair stands on end, his cheeks beautifully pink, lips kiss-swollen and he is looking at Dean as if he is among the literary treasure in the Library of Alexandria.

Digging his fingers into Dean's chest, Cas mewls at him impatiently when it takes too long, but who can blame him?

“Come on, angel,” he whispers.

Cas crawls higher, both hands on Dean’s thighs to hold his balance. He gives Dean the initial lead, lining himself up, but Cas pushes down on him. Eager and much quicker than Dean expected. Dean’s hands find purchase at Cas’ hips, gripping tight as he tries to pace him and fails miserably when Cas drops down, until his ass cheeks meet Dean’s thighs. A strangled sound is ripped from him and he might glare at Cas, but only half-heartedly, judging by the amused laugh that Cas lets out, which quickly veers into panting sounds of delight.

“Oh, but fuck me, you feel good,” Cas grinds out, shaking hard enough that it sends an echoing tremble through Dean. “Fuck… fuck… Dean…”

He holds Cas in such a way that he’s supporting him, searching his face and body language, as they adjust to feeling each other. Nipping at his lips, Dean slowly trails his hand up Cas’ spine, skin catching on sweaty skin. “You okay?”

Cas’ hands shoot up to his shoulders and his eyes open, heavy-lidded and swirling with such intense emotions Dean forgets how to breathe. His gums show when he smiles, licking his lips, and works his muscles, lifting himself up before sliding back down.

Dean’s hips buck up of their own accord, knocking a gentle breath out of him. "Aahhnn, oh, yes… Dean…”

“Mmmh,” Dean groans, smiling up at him. “You like this?”

Cas trembles and nods, when Dean repeats the motion, pulling down on Cas’ hips, slamming in harder. His head falls back as he lets out a deep, quivering moan. “Yes, mmh, yes, Dean, give… more..."

His hands grip tighter on Dean’s sides, as control slips out of their grasp. The image of a sweaty, sun-kissed, naked Cas, riding him is burned into Dean’s memory forever. He presses his heels into the couch pillow for a better grip, thrusting into Cas, slow and burning, harder when Cas’ tone pitches higher. He watches Cas lose himself, Dean in hot pursuit, his world narrowing down to the feel of his Cas fucking down on him, while words of want and praise and love tumble over one another in the space between them.

Cas falls forward, his arms on either side of Dean, and claims his mouth, whimpering nonsense hotly, his sounds in sync with Dean’s thrusts, until Dean changes the angle just right.

“Yesyesyes, right… Oh, Dean, hotshot, yes, keep going!”

His mind starting to fog up, Dean grabs Cas’ dick, stroking him as he does exactly what Cas asks of him, wanting to see him come. Moan after moan spills from Cas’ lips, the sound blending with Dean’s needy groans, their sweaty bodies slip-sliding against each other. Their foreheads are pressed together, Dean all but drowning in the blue of those eyes, but he went head over heels into the deep end a long, long time ago.

He holds on to Cas, as he slams into him faster, delighting the sound he pulls from him every time he hits his sweet spot. Until Cas’ voice gives out on his name and warm semen shoots over Dean’s hand and abdomen. There is a split second where Cas' mouth curls into a roguish smile as he grabs Dean's face, as he squeezes down on him, not relenting for a moment. A full body tremble wracks through him a split second before he is coming too, and they’re clutching on to each other, breath coming harshly.

Trembling hips falling back to the couch, Dean noses into Cas’ cheek, planting kisses along the way, until they find each other’s lips. They’re sloppy, sweet, lazy kisses, breaths slowing at different paces, but oh, everything’s warm and sated. Dean squeezes Cas closer, hands coming up to his face, breathing him in.

“Mmmh, I love you, Dean,” Cas whispers hoarsely, their lips catching. “Every part of you, familiar and a mystery to me still, I wish to discover them all…”

Dean’s vision turns to HD perfection, his pupils blown wide, soaking up the light that Cas emits, like a pair of bright wings emerge behind him. He clamps his hand down in the back of Cas’ neck, pressing them together at their foreheads.

“I love you, Cas, like you love your books and your characters. Like you love chasing the perfect word to capture the perfect feeling. Because that’s what you feel like to me…”

A long, sweet kiss, until Cas lets go.

Cas’ smile is a unique blend of swooning smugness as he settles down on Dean, smearing sweat and semen across their abdomens. Dean laughs, scrunching up his face as he looks down meaningfully. The scent of them is intensely appealing.

“Are you… marking your territory?”

“Like you didn’t just do the same,” Cas says fondly.

With a content sigh, Cas settles down, burying his nose in Dean’s neck. Dean brings his arms up, sweat cooling rapidly under his touch. He feels around for a blanket and throws it over them both.

“We need to clean up,” Cas protests.

“For which you’ll have to move,” Dean points out, “And you don’t look like you intend to do so any time soon. So I’m keeping us warm.”

Dean slips out of Cas as they move and rearrange themselves so Cas fits snugly between him and the back of the couch. Sticky, warm and sleepy, they sink into the embrace, Dean peppering kisses to Cas' face.


	19. April 5th 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’s sure there are poems that come close. Cas probably knows some. Or Dean can try to find them. Read them out loud. He’s smiling like an idiot at the thought of reading the right poems to Cas...
> 
> “Hey, would you feel like working in the garden?”
> 
> A soft chuckle escapes him at the different stratospheres their minds reside in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am starting to feel lost on the waves of fluff. So if y'all have stuff you'd like to see happen, please tell me!
> 
> Hugs to you on this lovely Sunday. It's supposed to be a day of rest anyway, yes?  
> Love,  
> Mal

Dean’s lying on his back on a blanket in the garden. Cas’ head is in his lap, Dean’s fingers carding through the soft strands endlessly. One of Cas’ hands is under his shirt, caressing his skin. The skies are a touch overcast, so Cas is wearing a sweater, Dean a zippered hoodie. It’s pleasantly warm when the sun peeks out from behind the clouds.

How his reality changed is at once subtle and mind-altering. He was sort of joking when he asked if Cas was marking him. But for all his bluster, that’s how it feels. Cas as good as claimed him the day they met, Dean pledging his quiet loyalty to him the moment those blue eyes lit up with a smile. What they are now is beyond words for Dean.

He’s sure there are poems that come close. Cas probably knows some. Or Dean can try to find them. Read them out loud. He’s smiling like an idiot at the thought of reading the right poems to Cas...

“Hey, would you feel like working in the garden?”

A soft chuckle escapes him at the different stratospheres their minds reside in.

“Hmm?”

Dean tracks his gaze to the quiet world around them. The softness under him is a testament to why Cas went there.

“Sure. The grass could stand to be cut, I think, and the temperature’s good.”

Cas sounds a touch guilty. “I may have neglected it a bit over winter.”

“It was also a gentle winter.”

“Did I mention granny says hi?”

He lets his hand slide down Cas’ cheek, before Cas puts his hand back where he wants it. On his chest this time, which, yeah, Dean can live with. He lets his fingers slip under the wide neck of Cas’ sweater. “Nope. You called her?”

“She was sorely disappointed you weren’t there when I called her this morning.”

“I was showering, wasn’t I?”

Cas snickers softly. “Exactly her point.”

He squints down at Cas, even though he can’t see it. “A real spitfire, that one.”

“You can say that again. She wanted to know why I wasn’t in there with you.”

“Oh, really?”

Dean sits up, leaning on his elbow, blinking at Cas, as he reaches for his ear and traces the shell slowly with his finger. A slow smile forms on his face, which turns into a full grin when he notices Cas’ ear turns pink. Tilting his head, Cas peeks at him sideways, chewing his thumb thoughtfully, eyebrows rising delicately with every passing heartbeat. And then Cas hides from him, as his hand comes up. Palming in his neck as if he’s suddenly too warm and Dean feels sorry he didn’t invite Cas into the shower with him.

He’s trying not to let his lizard brain determine his activities every waking minute of the day.

“How was she?”

Cas turns to his side, so they can see each other better, sliding his hand back under Dean’s shirt. He lazily draws circles around Dean’s bellybutton.

“A bit out of sorts, I think. I mean, her generation’s sturdy, both physically and mentally,” Cas says. “But she was fussing that no one batted an eye at flu pandemics that were worse than what we’ve got going on now. And blames the blasted media for causing panics.”

He smiles at the casual cursing that’s slipping in again, which he’s sure is a direct quote. “Fair point. I hope she’s staying safe though?”

“She will. For all her mutinous tendencies, she knows when to be sensible.”

Dean can tell from the shine in his eyes that it’s a good day. Honestly, the same goes for him, which is why his lizard brain is being rather adamant. He cocks his eyebrow up.

“Shall we then?”

Something in his face gives him away, because Cas bites down on his lower lip in amusement, as he sits up on his elbows, and leans closer, jutting his chin out in invitation. Dean moves instinctively, easing smoothly into his space, and smiles, nudging his nose into Cas’ cheek gently.

“Am I supposed to get anything done anymore?”

“The garden work was just a suggestion,” Cas says innocently. “Though we can take whatever you have in mind right here once we’re done…?”

A pleasant heat coils up from the pit of his being. Dean narrows his eyes at Cas, trying to gauge if he’s simply taunting him or not. When he finds nothing but an open, indulgent look, as if Cas is waiting for Dean to catch up, he huffs.

“What did you mean when you said I was looking at you like a deer caught in headlights?”

Cas laughs softly. “Oh, you mean, kinda what you’re doing right now?”

“I am not.”

“Not entirely,” Cas smiles, tugging him closer by the strings of his hoodie. “But before… you know, you actually kissed me, there were a few close calls, right?”

“I remember,” Dean nods. “You sort of backed out every time.”

“I backed out?” Cas says, tone shooting up in disbelief along with his eyebrows. “You were the one who looked like he was about to run every time.”

Dean splutters. “I backed off because I thought you were hitting a boundary.”

“So chivalrous.”

“Would you rather have me kissing people randomly when I’m not sure if they’re comfortable?”

“People? No. Me? You probably could have risked it a while ago.”

Laughing, Cas closes the distance and kisses him, but Dean’s grumbling sufficiently for Cas to back off again. Blue eyes search his face, suddenly concerned.

“I appreciate your attentiveness, Dean,” Cas says, nipping at his lips sweetly. Dean inhales him, eyes falling shut, when Cas kisses him. He lets out a small sound, when Cas breaks it, but stays very close, delightfully close. “Without it, I likely wouldn’t have reached the point where…”

He grins crookedly. “… You lost patience enough with me?”

Cas hums softly, his hand sneaking between their faces, pushing his glasses up the straight line of his nose. He bumps their noses together. “For all the best reasons. You’re beautiful, Dean.”

It catches him by surprise, the comment, and he wants to frown, but Cas wraps his arms around him and knocks him over on his back. Dean grumbles one more time, before his mind is flooded with endorphins and Cas’ scent and flavor.

“Cas… Garden work?” He mumbles into the kiss, smiling, and feels Cas smile back, as he throws a leg over Dean and straddles him, sliding both hands under his shirt.

“What garden work?”


	20. April 6th 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He taps one earbud, as he cuts the engine. “Heya, Adam. How are you, kid?”
> 
> “Hi, Dean,” Adam says, “Just wanted to hear you guys. It’s getting a little claustrophobic here.”
> 
> “Hold on,” Dean mutters, taking Adam off Bluetooth. “Let’s add video. It’s been a while.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [700IvyStreet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/700IvyStreet/profile) asked to check in with Adam, so here we are. Thanks for that! It's hard to know which way to take this, because it's a bit adrift in similar ways as some of us might feel/be?
> 
> I think the kid's studying Chemistry, but I have no idea what he wants to major in. Also the American education system is lacking in transparancy for my simple, European brain. I'd like to think that the current experience will influence his choice, but not sure what that will be yet. 
> 
> If anyone has ideas, shoot them my way! Both when it comes to Adam's choices and other ideas.
> 
> Also, I had nightmares last night, which sucks and I should go to bed (I'm pre-uploading this as a draft at the end of the 5th of April ^^).
> 
> I can't express how fun it is to be working on this and have you all along for the ride. Hope you and yours remain safe and healthy.  
> Hugs,  
> Mal

Dean pushes the lawn mower to the edge of the deck. Cas is walking parallel to him, ensuring Dean doesn’t run over the extension cord wherever he goes. It’s a smooth kind of sync, which with the blue skies overhead lends a peculiar vibe to the day. They’re not talking, because of the noise of the engine and music. Dean has earbuds in, his playlist going from Kansas to AC/DC, while Cas is wearing his noise cancelling headphones, connected to his phone via Bluetooth. He has no idea what Cas is listening to, but his lips are moving along, while he keeps track of Dean.

Claire’s sitting behind the back door glass, her eyes wide as she tracks their every move, because what The Hoomins are up to is basically the equivalent of bringing five Danish dogs into her life. Dean makes kissy faces at her, though he doesn’t know if she can tell. If she can, it doesn’t seem to impress her. She’s settled in easily and climbs her cat tree with a speed like she’s got six legs instead of only three.

Dean releases the blade control, bringing the mower to a halt. He checks how full the grass catcher is. Cas comes closer, using their childhood sign language to ask if everything is okay. Dean smiles and nods, bringing his arms up and behind his head to tug his shirt off.

It’s kinda warm, but not that warm. He just loves the way Cas gets so openly distracted these days whenever he catches Dean half naked or naked, which is a helluva lot more often than before.

Because he can.

Cas indulges his grin with a fond eye roll and a quick peck to his lips, before Dean makes to continue, when his phone rings.

He taps one earbud, as he cuts the engine. “Heya, Adam. How are you, kid?”

“Hi, Dean,” Adam says, “Just wanted to hear you guys. It’s getting a little claustrophobic here.”

“Hold on,” Dean mutters, taking Adam off Bluetooth. “Let’s add video. It’s been a while.”

He flicks the phone on its side. Cas walks up, dropping his headset onto his neck, and they’re looking at Adam, hanging upside down…?

Cas laughs, squinting closer at the little screen, draping his hand over Dean’s shoulder, arm pressed to his shoulder blade. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Exercising!” Adam grunts, smiling.

Visibly intrigued, Cas tilts his head, trying to meet Adam partway. “How?”

“Michael’s gravity boots. This is awesome. It’d be even more fun if we could use the monkey bars outside.”

Michael laughs in the background.

“Oh, please,” Dean says, “I’m sure you’ve snuck out at night.”

Adam’s eyes shine and he grins, not answering. “My last paper got an A+.”

“Ahh, I knew it,” Dean smiles. “You did good, kid! Was that the one you and Michael worked together on?”

“The one about growing crystals or the EMF one?” Cas asks.

“The EMF one,” Adam says. “Professor asked if we got outside help, like from adults.”

“Technically, you are an adult,” Dean says. “But that’s a good sign, right?”

“Yes and no,” Michael says, appearing as a dark blur behind Adam. “If you’re not doing the damn exercises, get out of those boots. Just hanging like that is bad for you.”

“But it helps my back.”

“I can help with that later. Now up.”

Cas grins at Dean, whispering lowly. “Hey, it’s like you and me looking out for each other, just with less filter.”

Adam groans and obeys, the camera getting obscured as he reaches up to grab hold of the bars. A few grunts and a whole lot of shaky footage later, he’s back upright, cheeks quite red. Adam sputters for a moment when Michael drops a kiss to his cheek, then shoves him out of the way so he can take his place.

“So what do you mean with ‘yes and no’, Mike?”

“Oh, right,” Michael says, voice tight. “For a moment, it looked like he doubted it was legit what we wrote. Like either we stole it or someone else wrote it for us, but one minute into the conversation, we proved him wrong.”

“You two sound like a right joy to have as students,” Dean says.

“Hey,” Cas adds. “You’re committed for sure, despite the circumstances. Most teachers can appreciate that.”

“He did,” Adam nods. “We’re good. It was weird. His cat got in on the video call.”

“The professor’s cat?”

“Yep, and his parrot, called Bart. So strange.”

“Bart? Really?” Dean asks.

“Exactly!” Adam gestures. “I thought so too, so I asked. Apparently this guy is a huge pirate buff, so the parrot’s named after some pirate, uhh.. What was it? Blackbeard?”

“Black Bart, I think,” Michael mutters.

“Right. Black Bart! So yeah, we met a parrot named Black Bart today.”

“And the cat?”

“Forgot to ask,” Adam smiles. “Maybe I’ll text him over Whatsapp.”

“Don’t randomly text your teachers…”

“I dunno. Everyone’s remarkably more relaxed these days. Like, sure, there’s a lot of people not here, but the ones we get to talk to are often nicer? Like working from home and being forced to work around the situation is providing more breathers.”

“Traffic,” Cas says dryly, dropping his head on Dean’s shoulder. “I know everything changed for me the moment I didn’t have to waste hours and half my spoons for the day on being stuck in traffic.”

Adam nods vehemently. “I feel I need to adjust my major, but I don’t know what to do yet.”

“Whatever you want, kid, you know we’ll do what we can.”

Adam’s face lights up with a smile as he drops onto the couch. “I know. And it’s just a thought, probably because of everything that’s going on, but it feels like a good time to sort of reassess stuff, you know?”

Dean frowns at the screen, thinking the kid’s making a lot of sense and speaking directly to him. He knows he’s been avoiding stuff. He knows he should chase it down. Maybe think of a back-up plan. “I… Yeah, that sounds about right. Though you might have more luck talking to Sam or Cas about all those intellectual shenanigans.”

With a meaningful glare, Adam’s eyebrows shoot up, reminding him of Sam. “Pragmatism.”

“What?”

“You’re a pragmatist. Stop thinking you not going to college makes your opinion invalid when it comes to these things.”

Cas snorts a laugh, which has Dean side-eyeing him. With a sputtering sound and a shrug, Cas shakes his head, sliding his hand to the back of Dean’s neck and pressing his nose to his temple. “Well, he’s right. You’re smart.”

“Ooooh,” Adam singsongs, peeking closer until the screen’s filled with nothing but a mirthful, blue eye. “Mike, I win!”

Dean looks from the screen to Cas, who’s trying not to laugh, and back, not sure who to be annoyed at first. “You… I am no… What? Mike wins what?”

“Pay up.”

Michael grumbles and waves a hand to something off screen. “You know where my wallet is. I’ll wire you the rest.”

“The rest?” Dean exclaims. “Just how much did you guys bet?”

“Please don’t be offended,” Cas says, before Dean can protest. “You had a bet running on them too.”

“Bet you ours is a bigger pot though,” Adam grins. “You took your sweet time.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Dean scoffs. “I didn’t know we were on the clock.”

“Dean,” Cas laughs.

“What?”

Cas kisses him quickly on the lips, then the cheek, Dean noticing how his cheeks are tinged pink beautifully. Either it’s the sun’s kisses or letting a loved one in, but, damn if it isn’t taking some of the wind out of his sails. He grumbles fondly, humming through a sweet smile.

“Fine,” he mutters.

Adam actually claps his hands, sending the image on the screen flying every which way. “Haaa, you guys! This is great! Did you tell Sam and Gabe yet?”

“Actually no,” Dean says, almost rolling his eyes at how soft his own voice sounds. “Though if you had a bet running, I’m sure they’ll have figured it out.”

“Or are making assumptions,” Cas adds.

“They’d be right,” Adam winks. “I’m happy for you. This quarantine has been great for that. I read quite a few similar stories online. Figuring stuff out, fallin… Uhmm, I mean… People sort of being stupidly sweet to each other.”

“I am not stupidly sweet!” Michael protests.

“I know,” Adam says, his face switching to bitch like a pro. “You’re a badass!” He shakes his head at the screen, eyes wide, making Dean and Cas break out in chuckles. “Unbelievable.”

“You’re telling me,” Cas smiles.

His fingers card through Dean’s hair, which is getting a bit long. Maybe he should ask Cas to cut it. And suddenly he has a visual of what the summer can look like if this lets up. It slips out before he can think better of it and he feels the weight of his hopes in the air instantly.

“Man, I hope we get to do summer barbecues with the whole family…”

His chest feels tighter now and he’s frowning, trying to will the uncertainty away. Cas is suddenly a lot closer, pressed to his side, chest to hip.

“Yeah,” Adam mutters. “That’d be awesome.”

He wants to joke that they can set up a virtual one, but he holds it in. It’s a stupid deflection. Not to mention he’s feeling a bit overwhelmed at how intensely he wants it to be a physical encounter by then. He doesn’t want a virtual barbecue. He doesn’t want to spend the whole damn summer keeping away from Sam, Gabe and Adam. He wants to meet Michael face to face.

He wants to see everyone interact with him and Cas within his new reality, even if everyone’s probably going to tell him there barely is a difference.

“I miss you guys,” he says, clenching his jaw.

“Me too,” Adam mumbles. “We’ll be fine.”

Cas scoffs gently, pressing a long kiss to Dean’s cheekbone. “You Winchesters always are. We’ve got you too.”


	21. April 7th 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Maybe.” He nips at Cas’ lips, pulling him flush to him, relishing the hitch in his breath and the feel of warm, wet skin on skin, their hands roaming lazily. “I dunno, Cas, it’s like that poem…”
> 
> Cas laughs, holding on to him tighter, spluttering when he is caught in the water for a moment. Dean readjusts them so his back catches more of the water and Cas is leaning against the wall. He hisses softly at the chill of the tiles.
> 
> “Which one? There have been many.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy, I did another thing. 
> 
> If you're curious about the poem, it's right [here](https://interestingliterature.com/2018/06/a-short-analysis-of-henry-david-thoreaus-friendship/).
> 
> Okay, curious Mal. What have you darlings been up to lately? How are you spending your time?
> 
> Today's chapter is something warm and wet. Enjoy?
> 
> Hugs to you,  
> Mal

He can’t stop touching Cas and he sincerely hopes Cas wasn’t expecting him to any time soon.

He hangs in Cas’ office, while Cas is working. He got a new assignment, which he wants to ensure a speedy delivery on.

He kisses Cas whenever he can.

Cas might be getting showered with affection.

So too today.

Or Dean is proving a bit clingy.

Which is unlike him.

Leaning his hands on the chair and the desk, he kisses the top of Cas’ head and stays there, delighting in the fact that Cas is okay with that. Eyes glued to the screen, Cas drags his fingers through Dean’s scruff, which is starting to get in beard territory. The texture seems to draw Cas out of his focus, his fingers carding through the coarser hair gently.

“Hey, have you heard back from Sam?”

Dean shakes his head. “Tried calling him around noon, but there was no answer.”

“Gabe mentioned in a text that he’s been doing ridiculous hours.”

“I’ll try and call him again tomorrow if he doesn’t call back.”

Angling his face up, Cas’ brow knits together, as if suddenly acutely distracted. They’re almost nose to nose, which has Dean chewing the inside of his cheek, sufficiently bemused by the view.

“Dean?”

“Hmm?”

He smiles, leaning in a bit, wondering where this is going.

“You need a shower.”

That takes him aback. “Huh?”

Cas scratches through his beard again, a finger trailing over his throat. “You haven’t showered in a few days.”

“I haven’t?”

Cas shakes his head, as Dean runs through the backlog of said last few days. It’s possible. He could have sworn he showered yesterday after the garden work. That is to say, he really should have. Or was it two days ago already?

He plucks at his shirt, giving himself a sniff and balks. “Whew… What the hell?”

Cas gives him a bit of a sheepish look. “Mmmyeah.”

“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry, Cas.”

He expected Cas to accept his touches like this. Hell, he crawled into Cas’ bed like this! What was he thinking?

“That’s alright,” Cas smiles, leaning in.

Appalled at himself, Dean tries to move out of reach, but Cas’ reflexes prove lightning fast. He’s on his feet in a second. His hands snatch out, grabbing Dean’s waist and pulling him back in, claiming his lips a little on the rough side, as Cas leans his ass against the desk. Dean’s eyes fall shut as he moans into the unexpected intimacy.

“You are fine,” Cas mumbles against his lips. “Just a little funky. Go shower and change. You’ve been living in your pajamas today too.”

“But they’re comfy. And it’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

“I know. Your slacks are comfy too. Just switch in and out of clothes mornings and evenings. It’s good for you.”

When Dean grimaces, Cas smirks at him, a teasing glint in his eyes. “And I get to see more of you, which might give me ideas.”

“Oh, sure, use my tactile needs to get me to cooperate.”

“It’s working, isn’t it?”

Dean grumbles lightly, slipping his hands under Cas’ t-shirt. “… Yes.”

There’s a shift in how Cas’ forehead wrinkles, which Dean recognizes and he chuckles.

“Are  _ you _ getting ideas now?” Dean asks, waggling his eyebrows.

Cas’ hands slide down his arms to his wrists, his gaze drawn downwards, as he squirms into Dean’s touch. “Mmmhmaybe.”

When Dean makes to lean in, Cas quickly but gently palms his hand in his face, playfully pushing him backwards. “How about you get started in the bathroom? I’ll join you.”

Putting a dramatic hand to his chest, he walks backwards out of the office. “You wound me.”

*

He’s done with a first rinse and scrub by the time Cas joins him in the bathroom, and already feeling halfway to a better man as he scratches through his beard. Definitely hitting fuller territories there. Cas’ gaze lingers on his face, as if he wants to take over from Dean, and who knows, maybe he does. He rarely goes full beard, which is a sure sign he’s been losing track of himself one way or another.

The one year he attended college, he and Cas shared a dorm. Dean would basically live in his underwear or jammies, depending on temperatures. No beard back then, because his dates preferred clean-shaven. His thoughts frolic in ‘what if’ scenarios all of a sudden. What if he’d picked up on it? What if he’d given in on those few ‘almost’ moments, when they were both drunk? 

With sudden clarity he’s glad he never took that opening, because knowing what he knows that would have hurt Cas. And confused the fuck out of himself.

“Where on Earth is your mind?” Cas asks softly.

He steps into the tub, grabbing onto Dean’s shoulder for support.

“College,” Dean admits.

“College? You wanna go back?”

“Hmm? No,” he says, giving Cas space under the water. “I was thinking of the year before I dropped out. Can’t help but wonder what could have been…”

Cas hums, tilting his head up into the stream of hot water, running his hands through his hair and down his neck to his chest. A slow, syrupy swirl of want stirs low in Dean’s being, but he stays where he is, taking in the sight.

He watches Cas’ slender hands cover his face for a few heartbeats, before they roughly go through his hair, setting it on end. Sees the water droplets bounce off Cas’ skin and streams of it cascading down his chest, following the delectable treasure trail across his abdomen, vanishing in the tempting nest of curls above his dick. Then Cas moves and the water adapts, smoothly running down his neck and back to the slope of his lower back before hitting the globes of his ass.

He cocks his head when Cas turns, going full frontal, his back catching most of the water. Dean’s eyes travel down, hopelessly distracted by the beauty of him, until they catch on Cas’ cock twitching at half mast. Blinking a few times, he flicks his gaze up and finds Cas staring at him, an impish smile on his face.

Dean snorts softly. It’s a chick-flick moment and he knows it. Suspects Cas knows it too, judging by the mirth in his eyes and the suggestive way he angles himself towards Dean. Stepping into his space.

“I’d have panicked.”

Okay, not the words he expects to hear. 

“Hm? Oh, back then. Why? Did you think I was an utter dick?” He frowns. “I kinda was to some of them.”

Cas rolls his eyes, pulling Dean in by the wrists. Dean lets his hands rest at his lower back, grateful for the warmth of both Cas and the water. It sloshes over Cas’ shoulder between them, forming a pool between their chests, before spilling away to the sides.

“I loved you from the very start, so no, as far as I was concerned you weren’t a dick. You  _ behaved  _ like an assbutt here and there, sure, but it’s not like you didn’t get yours for that.”

Dean’s kind of lost on the first part of that little collection of lovely words. “You loved me from the very start?”

Gorgeous blue eyes light up, as Cas wraps his arms around his shoulders. “Uh-huhmm, very much so.”

“So why panic…? Later, I mean. I never…”

“You never did anything. But I’d have still panicked, because I was this skinny, awkward weird little punk and I had no idea how to be in my own body, let alone be in my own body around someone else. Let alone around you.”

“You were so beautiful though.” Cas’ eyebrows shoot up indulgently and Dean leans in for a kiss. “You were. You are.”

Letting out a pleased sound, Cas kisses from Dean’s mouth to his ear and bares his neck, an invitation Dean gives into without hesitation. 

“Don’t you think it’s strange?”

Dean hums against his skin, searching for the soothing beat of his pulse with his tongue. “What is strange?”

“How we sort of just… took one look at each other and chose?”

Dean kisses a trail up and down his neck, nuzzling the soft spot near his clavicle, before he trails his nose up the gentle scruff to Cas’ chin. There’s a delightful increase in Cas’ breathing, as his hands roam over Dean’s back, squeezing his muscles.

“Maybe.” He nips at Cas’ lips, pulling him flush to him, relishing the hitch in his breath and the feel of warm, wet skin on skin, their hands roaming lazily. “I dunno, Cas, it’s like that poem…”

Cas laughs, holding on to him tighter, spluttering when he is caught in the water for a moment. Dean readjusts them so his back catches more of the water and Cas is leaning against the wall. He hisses softly at the chill of the tiles.

“Which one? There have been many.”

“College,” Dean says, smiling. “We were talking about college. I forgot the writer’s name, because I always do, but the one with the rooted trees. About Love not being able to speak, but instead thinks and does. You read it to me on the couch.”

He’s not sure if he remembers it right word for word, but the gist of it stayed with him. Cas is murmuring and repeating Dean’s words, his expression turned inward for a moment. His fingers are now in Dean’s beard, providing a delicious constant scratch. If Dean were a dog, this would probably be the part where he’d flop on his side.

Alas. 

“Oh! Thoreau!”

He steals a kiss, pressing his thigh between Cas’, earning a sharp inhale for it. “I trust you would know.”

There’s a blessed moment of Cas surrendering to the kiss, his tongue darting into Dean’s mouth, before he presses their foreheads together. “That one was beautiful, yes. I guess I was in a way already talking to you, without realizing it.”

Dean smiles wide at that, feeling himself light up from the inside, and Cas scoffs sweetly. “I heard you, angel. Not sure if either of us truly understood it back then, but I heard you.”

Cas groans, when Dean claims his mouth, hot and fervent, hands roaming over his chest. When he teases his thumb over Cas’ nipple in quick, short bursts that send jolts of energy wracking through Cas. He cups Cas’ face between his hands, dipping in deep. Sweetening his touches, he alternates between deep kisses and sharp nips at Cas’ lower lip.

“Mmhr,” he mutters. “You taste so good, Cas.”

Cas chuckles as he breaks the kiss, carding his fingers through his hair. “We should probably get these saccharine tendencies out of the way before we venture out into the wild again. Gabe’s not going to let us live this down.”

“I know what he does for Sam. He has no business bitching about saccharine. In fact, he’s welcome to stuff his mouth with his sweets, sit back and bask in our glow. If I wanna shower you with love, I will. And the only one who gets to tell me to back off is you.”

Cas lets out a soft sound, as if he’s surprised Dean intends to treat him right. Dean’s mind skips to Lucifer again, because he knows he’s in large part responsible for that sliver of doubt in Cas’ mind. He plants a soft kiss to each of Cas’ cheekbones, feeling his lashes flutter against his skin.

“It’s my fucking prerogative,” he adds, voice dipping lower.

Cas grabs onto him, pressing them flush together, and Dean’s feet slip, his weight landing on Cas full force. 

“God, I love you,” Cas says on a heavy exhale.

“How fortunate for me,” Dean laughs, teeth grazing Cas’ skin.

He slides his hands down Cas’ wet flanks, coming round to his ass and massages each cheek slowly, looking for that hot spot near Cas’ sitting bones. Dean lets out a pleased groan, when he finds them and Cas melts against the wall under his touch. His hands travel lower to the back of Cas’ thighs and he tugs at them suggestively. Nothing about this is practical, but fuck, he wants… When Cas responds, rolling his hips, Dean closes his lips over that spot on Cas’ neck and he sucks down hard, drawing a surprised wanton moan from Cas.

He has trouble focusing, because all he wants to do is sink into Cas. Or blow him. Or keep him right here, squirming under Dean’s touch until he’s a mess.

“Ohhh, fuck… God-friggin-damnit, Dean, not in the shower.”

Dean breathes out warmly, palming between them, teasing at Cas’ v-line. “Are you sure?”

“Mmmhnoes,” Cas whimpers, hips bucking into him. “Yes. Messy.”

“Hmm, true… I got an idea.” 

He grins wickedly, finding hazy, lust-filled eyes searching him with intent. “What idea? I wanna know.”

Dean drops to his knees, grabbing hold of Cas’ hips, and noses up the underside of Cas’ length. It twitches in response, bobbing up and back down, so he opens up and catches him, taking Cas in deep and fast. The way Cas moans when Dean sucks hard tells him this is the best idea he’s had recently.

Cas’ hands are in his hair, ginger, almost hesitant, until Dean hums and flashes him an encouraging wink. For good measure, he slips his hand between Cas’ thigh, cradling his balls. When he slides his fingers over Cas’ perineum, while willing his throat to relax and taking Cas deeper, there’s a sound that’s part protest, part surrender as his hands twist into Dean’s hair with the right kind of burn. And Cas almost slips.

Dean is quick to slide his free arm between Cas’ thighs, flattening his hand on his lower back to provide support, but doesn’t relent. Cas’ breathing speeds up, his moans louder, while Dean teases his hole, circling it and almost pressing in, before retreating.

“Fuck, Dean… Yes, yesyesyes…”

He takes Cas deep enough to bury his nose in his pubes, opening up for Cas as wide as he can. Dean presses his finger into Cas’ hole and pulls, driving him into his mouth deeper by his rim. A warning pulse runs through Cas’ dick on his tongue. Cas’ hips jerk, his hands fisting in his hair harder, and he’s shouting Dean’s name, semen spurting into his mouth.

He works Cas through it, taking in the lovely view from his vantage point of a flushed Cas in the throes of his orgasm.

When he pulls through, his eyes open, his hands disentangling from Dean’s hair to search for support against the wet tiles. Wanting to rise to his feet, Dean groans softly at the tension in his legs and knees, and suddenly they’re holding onto each other. Dean knocks the tap closed. Letting out a long, content sigh, Cas searches for his lips, but balks when he sees Dean’s expression.

“So smug,” he scoffs.

Dean tries to wipe the huge smirk off his face, but fails utterly. He juts his chin out, cocking an eyebrow. “So not sorry.”

“Bed, Dean,” Cas mutters into his mouth. “Now.”

Cas actually runs to the bedroom, Dean giving eager chase.


	22. April 8th 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You okay?”
> 
> “Been better,” Sam mumbles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anyone interested in getting recipes for the dishes the boys have mentioned throughout this story? I been thinking about putting links in the notes or something.
> 
> Anyway.. Sam and his professional kin deserve all the hugs. White sheets out of windows are fun and all, but they also need a damned huge raise and better hours. And so on. 
> 
> There's a program in Belgium they're running on one of our television network (also online) where they explore how the world can change after this. For the better obviously. Wondering if we can ever return to "business as usual", if this will bring about permanent positive change (think climate and telework), the silver linings of quarantine, etc. I'ma go watch some.
> 
> **Genuine question: what are readers currently hoping to get from this story? It's as much mine as it is yours.**
> 
> Hugs!  
> Mal

“Sammy! Finally!”

A long groan is his brother’s initial response, which at this time of the morning, is strange. He should be either out jogging or whipping himself up an early lunch. Dean sits up straighter, pulling his plate of brunch closer. Cas is next to him, their legs touching.

A late breakfast of fluffy, scrambled eggs with bacon and syrup, fruit salad, coffee and freshly squeezed juice.

“You okay?”

“Been better,” Sam mumbles.

“What he means to say is that he’s been working back to back shifts for the last week!”

“Sam!” Dean exclaims, making Cas jump and spill his coffee. “Shit, sorry, angel.”

He grabs the towel from the counter and presses it to Cas’ chin. “’s Fine. What’s going on?”

“He’s been working too much,” Dean says, as he puts his phone on speaker.

“Did you just call Cas angel?” Sam asks, audibly more awake.

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Don’t you change the subject. All you did was say my name in that tone I like to ignore. So did you?”

“Sam’s right,” Gabriel joins in. “Did you call my brother angel?”

“I did. Are you working back to back shifts?”

“I have, yes. Why are you calling Cas angel?”

“Dean-o, why are you calling my brother angel?”

“Oh, this is going to hell in a handbasket fast,” Cas groans, licking syrup off his fingers.

“Because one of you won the bet,” Dean snaps. “Though I’m not sure what you’d be betting on, because anyone who bet against us getting together is an idiot.”

“He’s calling us idiots,” Gabe says. “Does he know how long this betting pool’s been going? We’re not the idiots here.”

“Hush, Gabe,” Cas says. “We’re aware and trust me, we’re making up for it plenty. Now what’s going on over there?”

It remains quiet for a while, until Dean loses patience and flips the phone on its side, up against his glass. “I’m turning on the video. You two decent?”

Sam snorts and chuckles, but follows suit. The image flickers and stalls for a moment, until it reveals a disheveled Sam, sheet pulled up to his chin, Gabe leaning on his pillow in the top left corner of the screen.

“Hey, Dean,” Sam mutters.

He looks exhausted, even with the debatable angle of getting to look up his baby brother’s nose. “Heya, Sammy. You been running yourself ragged?”

The angle adjusts until they have a decent view of each other. Cas leans in, so they fit better.

“Yeah, it… It’s been hectic.”

Gabe’s fingers are carding through Sam’s hair and Dean can’t help but smile at the tenderness he gets to witness. These are the little things he’d never see if it wasn’t for this quarantine. But he knows that look in Sam’s eyes and the way his eyebrows and mouth are working hard to pretend he’s holding it together.

“How bad?” Dean asks softly.

Sam’s eyes widen and he squeezes them shut, his hand appearing to rub at his forehead. “People are dying. So bad enough. We’re sorely understaffed and we don’t nearly have enough breathing apparatuses. People asking us if they'll wake up again when we put them under to ease the pain..."

He breathes in, pressing his lips into a tight line, brow furrowed.

"And for some reason... domestic violence is up too." One corner of his mouth ticks up in disbelief, as he lets out a gentle huff. "I mean... locked up together and that happens? Cops have their hands full. And there's nothing we can do. Even less."

Sam catches himself, gaze flicking to Cas. Dean's heart hammers louder and he entwines his fingers with Cas'.

“Are they providing support for you guys?”

“Yeah,” Sam scoffs. “If we had time to go. I mean, they’re providing online sessions. I dialed in once, but… I dunno.”

He shrugs, jostling Gabe’s head lightly, who lets out a frustrated sound. “Please tell him he needs sleep.”

“You need sleep, Sam,” Cas says.

Sam rolls his eyes, glaring unsuccessfully at Gabe and pecking him above the eyebrow. He looks straight at the camera meaningfully. “Please tell him I gotta do this.”

“He’s gotta do this,” Dean offers. “But you really need sleep, Sam. There’s a legit chance of killing yourself. It’s not even a hyperbole anymore.”

“I know. In case you didn’t notice, you woke me up.”

“Sorry for that, man. If I had known, I wouldn’t have. You were just a pain to reach.”

“For obvious reasons.”

“How long you off now?”

“Two days and that’s only because Crowley insisted.”

“The King of Hell sent you home?”

“Stop calling our department that,” Sam groans. “But yeah, he did. Man’s proving very good under duress.”

“Somehow,” Cas mutters, “I can imagine that. Loud, but efficient?”

Sam chuckles. “Something like that. So, uhh, you two finally found each other?”

“Who took the initiative?” Gabe asks, crowding Sam.

“Me,” Cas says, dead-pan.

Dean grins, when Gabe groans and Sam makes the ‘pay up’ gesture.

“And how?” Sam asks. “Details, man, come on.”

“None of your business,” Dean smirks, unable to dodge the memories that flood him.

“Oh, look at that smile,” Gabe says. “What did you do, Cassie, you little minx!”

“You know what?” Cas says. “This is exactly why we kept it to ourselves for a while. Get it out of your system now, so we don’t have to suffer this live.”

“Awww, but we want to know! This has been on the backburner of our lives for long enough. You owe us!”

Dean snorts, shooting the two of them a wolfish smile. “Spare me.”

Cas intervenes with all the subtlety of a Looney Tunes anvil. “Oh, hey, Gabe. Have you called granny recently?”

“They’re changing the subject again,” Sam protests.

“I haven’t, but I was wondering if we could do something for her?”

“Such as?”

“Well, don’t you guys have a view of her residence from the house?”

“Uhhh,” Cas says hesitantly. “I don’t think so.”

“Nuts.”

“Why?”

“I was wondering if you guys could sign to her or something… Morse code? She knows all the tricks.”

“Hmm, I don’t… I don’t think the top floor is high enough.”

“Not even the attic?”

“Attic’s tiny and the orientation is wrong. It doesn’t give out on her residence.”

“Hold on,” Dean says. “It might work if we climb on the roof.”

“Nifty! We can video call and join in. I mean, we’ll obviously have to involve her too.”

“On the roof?” Cas asks.

“It’ll be fine,” Dean winks.

Gabe shakes at Sam’s shoulder. “I told you they were gonna be up for it.”

“Dean’s up for anything if it involves climbing roofs and shit. Which reminds me, I’ll call Adam and Mike. See if they want to join.”

“Awesome,” Dean grins. “Climbing the roof at night to send Morse code messages to our granny. I love it.”

Sam nods slowly and yawns hugely, which peters out to a long sigh. “So tired.”

“Get some more rest, bitch,” Dean says. “Take care of each other, yeah?”

“You too, jerk.”


	23. April 9th 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He looks at Cas, searching his face and body language like it’s second nature. What he finds is anger as Cas paces up and down, but that too isn’t in his nature, and he knocks his shin into the coffee table, cursing so vehemently, his voice breaks.
> 
> “Cas…”
> 
> “I’m fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some minor angst warning, I guess? Basically Lucifer was an abusive, manipulative big bag of dicks to Cas. Not sure how far I wish to explore that part of Cas' part. Feel free to let me know if it interests you or if you want continued fluff.
> 
> The dinner recipes mentioned so far have been uploaded to my chaotic Tumblr: [Mexican lasagna](https://maleyah-givemetomorrow.tumblr.com/post/614853019970994176/apocalypse-recipe-1-mexican-lasagna), [Home-made burgers](https://maleyah-givemetomorrow.tumblr.com/post/614853206207561728/apocalypse-recipe-2-home-made-burgers), [Shepherd's pie](https://maleyah-givemetomorrow.tumblr.com/post/614853504618610688/apocalypse-recipe-3-shepherds-pie) and [Dean's pastas](https://maleyah-givemetomorrow.tumblr.com/post/614853884907847680/apocalypse-recipe-4-deans-pastas). Enjoy?
> 
> I did not expect what happened in the end! They're doing things of their own accord by now! Which is a good sign usually.
> 
> Hope you and yours continue to be well. Soak up some sunlight if you can?  
> Love,  
> Mal

Dean’s on the couch, reading, when something from the past slithers back into their reality. It lands with the debatable subtlety of a cell phone being tossed in his open book, sliding down between his legs. It’s unlike Cas to throw things at people, so his focus goes to the phone first, plucking it out from under him. Handling it so it’s upright, he glances at Cas quickly, before looking at the screen.

**> > Hello, Castiel. I know it’s a bit unusual to do this, but I feel it’s within my rights to reach out and check in with you. See if you’re okay with everything that’s going on. I know situations like these can knock you off balance easily and I can’t help but worry, even after all these years. So please take this for what I say it is and not what you think it might be. I still care. Please stay safe. Luci**

Dean’s gut churns nauseatingly at the words, so he can only imagine what it did to Cas. He rereads it, though he’s not sure why. Maybe to see the pitfalls built in so naturally, like it’s an obstacle parkour, the way he so obviously tries to push Cas off balance, while pretending to care.

At least that’s how Dean reads it.

He looks at Cas, searching his face and body language like it’s second nature. What he finds is anger as Cas paces up and down, but that too isn’t in his nature, and he knocks his shin into the coffee table, cursing so vehemently, his voice breaks.

“Cas…”

“I’m fine.”

Sometimes his mouth is faster than his brain. “I see you took on the Winchester name and creed already.”

Cas glares at him, so Dean lifts both hands in mute appeal. “You know what I mean.”

“Why?” Cas blurts out, gesturing wildly at the phone in Dean’s hand. “Why the fuck does he do that? It’s anything but within his damned rights! He lost the right to anything related to me the day he…”

Cas cuts himself off and holds still, hands on his hips, as he stares hard at the floor.

“He did,” Dean says gently. “You have no obligation to do anything with this.”

Sitting low and deep in Dean’s brain, an old instinct kicks into gear. It’s always at his disposal, but these days, he has less reason to let it rip. John taught him well. But right now, it’s no point triggering it, because the way he wants to respond is not within the cards. It would involve leaving this house, getting into Baby, and finding Lucifer.

On top of that, he’s aware it’s a primitive response and one Cas can do without.

“You’re just itching to call him, aren’t you?” Cas asks, cutting through the haze.

Dean flicks his eyes up to Cas’ face, knowing the energy behind it is on full display. “I’m itching to do a lot more than that, but it ain’t my call, is it? Besides, I know you can flay him alive with your words, if you so choose, which will hit a lot harder than anything I can come up with.”

“I’m not so sure.”

In a sudden move, Cas walks towards him, pulling the phone from his hands and tossing it aside. He sinks into Dean’s lap and cradles his face between his hands. Dean’s arms come up instinctively, sliding under his shirt to provide soothing touches.

“But this right here is why I love you beyond the edges of the universe, hotshot. Because I know you can intervene, I know you want to – that’s a very hot look on you, by the way – and you know why? It’s what you’ve done from the day we met. I know you can kick his ass and part of me loves that… makes me feel all warm and fuzzy in that off, vindictive kind of way…”

“Damn, angel,” Dean grins. “Also a good look on you…”

“Downloading movies illegally and now this. You’re rubbing off on me, Winchester.”

“Only now?”

“All of you. You’ve got mob vibes.”

Dean cocks his eyebrow, highly amused at the thought. “Go on.”

“I know you can do all those things, but I also know you won’t, because you realize it isn’t up to you. Whatever this is, you know it’s mine to sort out and you trust I will. This is why my list of people is so short.”

Cas is right every step of the way, but the last bit confuses him. “What does that have to do with this?”

“Most people only see the sweaters, the glasses and mistake my silence for reticence, thinking I'm pliable or easy.”

Dean purses his lips, suffering another bout of angry protectiveness, but he stomps it back down. “Their loss,” he says.

“Quite.” Cas allows himself a cute smile, as if he’s sufficiently aware of what’s going on in Dean’s mind. Chances are he is. “They don’t see past it. You always do.”

“If they don’t, they’re fucking blind, Cas.”

Cas tilts his head. “A lot of people are. Not you. And I love you for it, Dean, so much I’m pretty sure I’ll never find the words.”

“Hmm, somehow I doubt that,” Dean smiles. “But it’s alright either way. You talk to me without a word, Cas, and I hear you.”

“Sap,” Cas grins.

“You love it.”

Cas hums his agreement, kissing him once. Silence wraps around them uncomfortably, as they both try to ignore the phone, until Cas huffs and grabs it. He settles down on Dean’s lap without unlocking the screen.

“I can just ignore it,” he mutters. “Whatever I might want to say isn’t fit to be put on paper.”

Dean nods, resting his hands on Cas’ thighs, anchoring him.

“I actually don’t think I’ve got anything left to say. All I’d want to do is punch him and that involves seeing him, which I also don’t want. Stop grinning.”

“But it’d be awesome.”

“I’d probably hurt myself.”

Dean brings Cas’ hand up to his lips and kisses the knuckles. “I can teach you a thing or two?”

They stare at each other for a moment, eyes twinkling at the thought. Cas giggles, wiggling his fingers in Dean’s grip. “That’s a strangely intriguing idea I never thought I’d consider, but for vastly different reasons.”

“Whatever reason suits your needs, Cas,” he grins. “I’m yours.”

Cas smiles and opens up his phone. “I’m deleting this shit.”

“Good,” Dean says, staring down at the screen slightly cross-eyed. “Being ignored always did piss him off most.”

“There. Gone.”

Dean searches Cas’ face, wondering if he wants to prod at it. Dig deeper. “You okay?”

With an all too casual shrug, Cas shakes his head, dismissing it, along with his phone. He exhales roughly through his nose, lips pressed into a tight line, while he rolls his eyes to the heavens. “Yes and no, I guess. I wasted years on him, thinking that I was the problem, accommodating him. His needs. Believing him. It’s not that I haven’t figured out I wasn’t the problem… It’s just that reading those words in that text in here,” he gestures at the space between the two of them, “feels like such an invasion. I didn’t expect it, I don’t want it, it’s vile.”

Dean scoffs. “There’s no room for him. You deleted it. You ignored it. He’s as out of your life as he was before. A blip. Nothing more.” He’s gesticulating all of a sudden, emphasizing every few words cockily. “I’m here. You’re in my lap. Claire’s snoozing on her pillow. Jack’s growing a flower for us. What do you wanna do?”

Cas’ face lights up with every word. “Hmm..”

Dean shoots him a crooked smile.

“Can we make burgers and fries?”

“Done.”

“Okay. Your turn,” Cas smiles. “What do you want to do?”

“I’d like to game with you, but my console’s still at the apartment.”

“We can go get it? Take Baby for a spin so her battery doesn’t die.”

“Fair point. Okay, let’s go,” Dean says, patting Cas’ thighs.

They get up off of the couch, moving easily now that they’ve got a clear goal in mind. He checks Cas’ face for any lingering anger or anxiety, but he seems alright. While Dean steps into his boots, Cas plants himself on his ass to tug his on.

“And you can move whatever other stuff you want. I’m pretty sure your uber-soft hoodie is still there. Your slippers and your summer coat. And that very nice beard cream, if you plan on sporting that. Shorts, cause it’s getting warm. That heap of unread books.”

Dean’s eyebrows rise higher when Cas keeps listing household effects.

His cooking utensils, which is an impressive amount of stuff to move. His comic collection. His old jerseys, which he hasn’t worn since high school. Cas always did like them on him.

“Uhh, Cas?”

“And your motorbike, while we’re at it?” He stops ticking things off on his fingers and looks up. “Yes?”

Watching Cas put on his coat, Dean grins, something warm swirling under his sternum, radiating through him. “Are you asking me to move in?”

A surprised laugh escapes Cas, revealing his gums, as his cheeks heat up, the blush going all the way to his ears. He tugs at his lapels, setting the collar up. “Oh… I… I think so, yes?” He clears his throat, suddenly fidgeting with his sleeves. Chewing his thumb, he squints at Dean. “No?”

“Fuck, yes,” Dean laughs. “Not a doubt in my mind. Just wanted to make sure…”

The relief in Cas’ body language is instant and he steps into Dean’s space for a quick kiss.

“Okay,” Cas nods. “Good. Let’s go then.”

“Right behind you.”

Dean grabs his keys and follows Cas out of the house.


	24. April 10th 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This is a whole lot of effort for something silly,” Adam says. “Hope you’re real fast clickin’ that button.”
> 
> “Connection at times like these is a good thing, I'd say," Dean says. "And I know Morse, okay, kid?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roo! You wanted granny contact ^^ here it is.
> 
> Mild trigger warning: dementia.
> 
> In true SPN writer fashion, I am retconning. When they first call granny Amara, Dean and Amara behave as if they've never met before. This was before I figured out the boys have known each other for so long and it makes zero sense. This means I want to go back and retcon March 21st minorly to alter some dialogue and give granny Amara mild dementia. Which sounds so off, when I say it like that.
> 
> For context: My own granma suffered it near the end and there were days we'd visit her, and she wouldn't recognize my dad or me. Other days, she'd remember the strangest details of her younger life in detail. My grandmother didn't live long enough for us to know what it's like long-term. (And we're talking a long time ago by now, I was quite young.)
> 
> Still, if it feels unrelatable, this is not my intent. Please keep that in mind while reading. Much love to you if you're dealing with that as well, because I remember it was hard on my dad.
> 
> Any requests?
> 
> Hugs to you and yours,  
> Mal

They’re up on the roof. Which is a deceptively simple way of saying that they had to get up to borderline parkour shenanigans to make it here. Much to Adam and Michael’s amusement who were already on the phone by then.

“Good thing we moved my stuff,” Dean grins, jiggling the military grade flashlight in his hand.

Cas makes a grumpy sound, as he scoots around, trying to find a remotely decent spot on the roof. Then he smiles up at Dean, eyes glittering in the dark. “I like how your scent sort of permeates the house now.”

“This is a whole lot of effort for something silly,” Adam says. “Hope you’re real fast clickin’ that button.”

“Connection at times like these is a good thing, I'd say," Dean says. "And I know Morse, okay, kid?"

They peer across the distance. It’s a few blocks away, but the neighborhood bound by building regulations cuts a relatively clear path to the four story high residence where Cas’ grandmother resides. Her room is on the third floor.

The sun’s down and the stars are out, which is of course distracting Cas. But he's been elsewhere lately. Whereas Dean's been consistently tired, despite the ample amount of rest.

Face tilted up to the darkness, Cas presses his back against the warm roof tiles. Dean settles down next to him, phone tucked in his breast pocket, flash light resting on the edge of one of the tiles. He hears a door slamming and ruckus erupting from his phone and glances down.

“What are you two up to?”

“Look, with you two on the roof with a view, we’re not gonna stay inside. We’re headed for the workout court. There’s a small hill with a few benches, where we can lie down.”

Dean makes to protest, but Cas grabs his hand, entwining their fingers, so he shuts it. He can’t fault the kids. That and Cas is rubbing the inside of his palm with his thumb, mutely asking him to join in the moment. It’s blissfully quiet. More so than usual, as if the world went into a global hibernation. They hear the chatter of Adam and Michael over the phone, which somehow adds to the strange feeling of being cocooned.

There’s a curt bleep sound, announcing Sam and Gabe joined the Discord channel Adam set up for the occasion.

“Hey, guys!”

Sam’s voice sounds briefly warbled, but settles down quickly. There’s a round of hellos exchanged between most of them. Dean rubs his thumb over the back of Cas’ hand, gaze stuck on the endless dark blankets, sprinkled with light above.

“How was the rest of your week, Sam?”

“I stuck to my hours.” He sounds mildly miffed about it.

“By which he means he still works plenty of overtime,” Gabe adds.

“I’m not pulling all-nighters.”

“And I’m rewarding him for it.”

Dean chokes slightly on a reluctant laugh. “Good… to know? I guess?”

“Sam,” Cas says, voice carrying oddly in the night air. “I’m glad you’re not doing that. Whatever care you can take…”

“I will,” Sam says, and the smile bleeds through the dark.

Dean can almost see the curt nod that likely accompanies the sentiment. It’s all too easy to pull out the platitudes.

_You can only take care of them as well as you take care of yourself._

_It’s like the oxygen masks on planes. First yourself, then the kids._

Sam knows that better than any of them. In many ways, he and Cas are alike, though they took different roads getting where they are now.

“Oh, hey, there she is,” Dean says, jostling Cas.

Cas takes out his phone to record her message for the others. See who gets the message first.

“Don’t you dare help Cassie, you hear me, Dean-o?”

“Competitive, much?”

He squints at the jittery flashing signals, arranging the information in his head.

**< < HELLO ANGELS**

There’s a whoop on Adam’s side, when they figure that out first. Dean’s signaling back.

>> HEYA GRANNY HOW ARE YOU

It takes her a while to interpret, but a lot less than he expected, all things considered. It has Dean grinning. “She’s still got it.”

**< < SNORING ROOMMATE BUT AT LEAST SHE IS QUIET**

Eyes flicking across his phone screen, trying to interpret what she said, Cas nods. His tongue sticking out as he focuses, he doesn’t look at Dean when he replies. “She was obsessed with the decoders during World War II. Makes sense for that to be embedded in her memory.”

Gabe barks a laugh. “Ahhh, good ol’ Lilith. Only an angel when she sleeps.”

Snickering, Dean tells them he’s signaling those words to her.

>> AN ANGEL WHEN SHE SLEEPS HUH

**< < THANK YOU KINDLY FOR NOT LUMPING HER IN WITH US**

“She’s right,” Adam laughs after a few moments. “Besides, pretty sure Lilith would object too, the damn she-devil.”

“Adam,” Sam chides. “Can’t call an old lady that. Even if she is.”

>> ADAM CALLS HER SHE DEVIL

<< KID IS RIGHT

“She agrees!” Michael yells, when he figures it out.

“HA!” Adam cheers. “See?”

“Of course she agrees,” Cas laughs. “She has no filter left. Ask her if she can see the stars from there.”

>> CAS ASKS IF YOU CAN SEE THE STARS

**< < OF COURSE VENUS IS VISIBLE AND A WANING MOON**

Cas lets out the softest laugh when he gets it. “Like when we were kids, Gabe,” he says.

“Yep, all under the same stars, even when we weren’t in the same house.”

“Hell, I remember that,” Dean says. “Sleepovers at her place were the best.”

>> LIKE THE GOOD OLD DAYS

**< < YOU BOYS WERE A HANDFUL**

“We were… Dad’s place was the worst,” Gabe snorts.

“Hmm,” Cas hums. “Let’s spare the boys those stories.”

“Hey!” Adam protests. “Why can’t we know where you guys came from?”

“Yeah,” Michael butts in. “It shaped you and all that, didn’t it?”

Dean interrupts them when a quick, erratic signal comes through. “Hey, wait, she’s saying something.”

**< < NARKS**

“Narks?” Sam asks.

Cas chuckles. “Probably one of the night nurses doing the rounds. She’s supposed to abide by some kind of schedule.”

“Ask her if she needs us to come bust her out,” Gabe says.

>> WANT A SWAT TEAM RESCUE

**< < YOU WOULD MAKE MY DAY**

**< < AND CAUSE STROKES**

There’s a burst of chuckles. “Cause of the outfit or busting down the door?”

More giggles.

“Tell her we miss her,” Sam says. “Cause Gabe’s not going to say it out loud.”

Dean sees Cas tense up a bit beside him.

>> WE MISS YOU GABE ESPECIALLY

“That was a lotta clicks for ‘we miss you’,” Adam says.

“Was it?” Dean grins. “You don’t know.”

**< < MY ADORABLE BOYS WE DO HAVE SKYPE YOU KNOW**

Michael barks out a laugh. “Aww, man, your granny’s amazing. I can’t wait to meet her.”

Dean’s skin prickles when the words paint a picture. He looks to Cas, seeing the way he drops his head, running both hands through his hair. He knows Cas’ anxiety is spiking at the thought of a future that’s running through their fingers like sand. Not only that, but it’s hard to tell how granny will evolve… Good and bad days, and no way to know how many they’ll get face to face.

“She’s riiiiiight,” Adam says. “Though this is fun. We haven’t been outside like this in forever.”

“That’s true,” Dean smiles. “Shall I wish her good night?”

“Well, do we want a phone call like Dad got in the good ol’ days?”

Amused, Dean lets out a content sigh, feeling the calm of the moment trickle down his spine. “Probably not.”

“Sam’s suppressing yawns too.”

“Of course…”

>> FAIR POINT SHALL WE BID YOU GOOD NIGHT FAIR LADY

**< < DEAN IS THAT YOU**

He chuckles. Today is a good day, it seems.

“What are you saying?” Cas smiles.

“Something that made her realize it was Dean,” Michael says. “What’d you do?”

“Called her fair lady.”

Cas scoffs gently, rolling his eyes.

>> WHO ELSE

**< < GO HUG MY GRANDSON GOOD NIGHT TO ALL MY BOYS**

>> GOOD NIGHT GRANNY

“Sam’s dozing off, guys. We’re calling it a night.”

“We probably all should,” Dean says.

“Awww, come on, you old bats.”

“I’m sure you two can entertain each other,” Gabe says. “Just don’t get caught the way I was.”

“Several times over,” Cas points out.

Adam laughs. “This was fun. Good night, guys.”

“Sleep tight, you two.”

One by one, they drop out of the channel and Dean shuts down Discord. His battery’s close to dying. Cas does the crab-walk to sit closer to him, groaning a bit when his butt makes contact with the tiles again.

“Butt hurt?”

“A bit. This is far from a pleasant surface to sit on.”

“Well, we have a perfectly comfortable surface one window down. Do you want to haul ass?”

“I’m not sure I’m going to make it back over the edge. My legs are tingly from sitting still so long.”

Cas rests his head on Dean’s shoulder, hooking his arm through his so he can rest his hand on Dean’s thigh. It isn’t until then that he realizes it’s chilly outside. Cas’ warmth seeps through the fabric of his clothes, warming one side of him pleasantly. Dean leans into the warmth, the physicality of him, wrapped in the comfort of a darkened night.

Neither of them seems to want to move.

Closing his eyes, he turns his head to press a kiss to Cas’ temple. Cas murmurs something sweet without words, rubbing his cheek against his bicep. Goosebumps travel his skin, as if angels are dancing across it, though in truth, there’s only one. Their fingers entwine and they hold onto each other tight, as if trying to reassure themselves the other’s right there. Real.

Dean stores the memory of the evening, dark and soothing, as soft and comforting as he remembers his mother’s hugs. He hopes granny can hold onto it as well.

When they do move, it’s slow and without speaking. And it’s a bitch to get back inside. They make way too much noise, Dean grunting and Cas cursing, helping each other down. Eventually they stumble straight into the bedroom, Dean bumping his hip against the night stand. They do the silly hushed giggling at each other the way you do at night, even when no one else is asleep. The burst of energy evaporates as quickly as it came on. Cas paws at him sleep-drunk, which Dean initially misreads as ‘help’, until Cas starts peeling off his clothes.

There’s a tremble to his hands that tells him it still calls for help, but differently. Mutely.

Dean hums softly, easing into Cas’ touch. He lifts his arms overhead, his own hands searching for an anchoring point on Cas’ body. Cas’ tanned skin feels blessedly warm under his touch and the sheets cool, when they slide between them, jostling Claire.

Blindly their hands roam, traveling up arms, both of them in search of each other and figuring out where they fit in. Theirs is a slow journey, soft and sweet, when Cas’ fingers find purchase at his neck, then his jawline. He closes his eyes on instinct, when fingers butterfly over them. A thumb caresses his lips. He pulls the sheets all the way over them, the air gusting across his skin pleasantly. With a shiver, this brings Cas in closer and they settle into their embrace. Dean steals a few lazy kisses, but the tug of sleep is so strong, he can feel his mind slipping away to the land of Nod.


	25. April 11th 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is jolted out of his sleep by Cas’ scream. They’re both entangled in the sheets, Cas trying to get out, Dean reaching out to Cas. Cas’ skin feels sweat-slick under his hands, when he touches him. Violently, Cas jerks away from him. Dean’s heart clenches painfully. Blind panic. Cas doesn’t even see him.
> 
> “Cas, angel, it’s me, it’s me,” he says, loud and gentle enough, he hopes, to cut through Cas’ fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for angst and nightmares, the latter quite true to life in nature. Lucifer's effects linger.
> 
> Love to you, lovely readers, who have picked up on this story.  
> Hugs,  
> Mal

Dean is jolted out of his sleep by Cas’ scream. They’re both entangled in the sheets, Cas trying to get out, Dean reaching out to Cas. Cas’ skin feels sweat-slick under his hands, when he touches him. Violently, Cas jerks away from him. Dean’s heart clenches painfully, fully aware instinct is driving Cas. Blind panic. Right now, Cas doesn’t even see him.

“Cas, angel, it’s me, it’s me,” he says, loud and gentle enough, he hopes, to cut through Cas’ fear.

He remembers both times they had to patch Cas up after he and Lucifer got in a fight. The third time put Cas in the hospital and marked the end of their… He doesn’t call it a relationship. No one deserves the shit Lucifer put Cas through. Considering what he learned about Cas in recent weeks, he’s convinced he still only knows a censored version of the facts.

Cheeks tear-streaked, Cas is mumbling, but he’s no longer crying. Just disoriented from returning to the real world. Wherever he was seconds ago. Dean’s name makes it through the jumbled sounds he’s making, hands scrambling for a point of contact. Broken and barely there, but he hears it and he is relieved Cas searches out the physical contact.

“Dean,” he whispers. “DeanDeanDean, he’s here… He came back. I can’t get out.”

“Cas,” he grits out, hands traveling up Cas' flanks. “It’s just us.”

Cas grabs hold of his arms, hard enough to hurt, eyes darting around. He’s peering into the dark as if he’s expecting Lucifer to emerge from the shadows. His chest heaves in short, panicked breaths.

“Look at me, angel.”

Blue eyes find his, the whites stark, and even in this light, Cas looks eerily pale.

“It’s just us,” he repeats. “But if you want, I’ll check the house.”

“No, don’t leave me alone,” he whines, throwing himself at Dean.

It knocks the wind out of him for a moment, but he wraps his arms around Cas tightly. His breaths are coming too fast. He tries to get a hold of Cas’ face, but Cas only tightens his grip on him, as if he’s scared Dean’s going to leave.

“Cas, you gotta… Breathe, Cas, please, breathe for me.”

He sobs and hiccups through hitched breaths. “I… I’m try... trying… I can’t. I was back… there… stuck… Dean!”

Dean flips Cas on his back and lowers his full weight down, Cas’ arms coming around him, digging into the muscles between his shoulder blades. He folds both hands around the sides of Cas’ head and presses his forehead to his temple. Cas’ next exhale comes out in a rough gasp, as he tries to fight the added weight. The anxiety doesn’t subside instantly, not mentally, but the physical effort of inhaling against the weight of Dean forces him to slow down.

He mutters soothing words, which becomes just Cas’ name. And ‘you are safe here’ endlessly. Cas trembles under him. Slowly but steadily, the panic seems to subside.

When Dean makes to adjust his weight, Cas lets out a whimpered protest. “Don’t… move,” he wheezes. “Please…”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Dean mumbles softly. “Just readjusting to something close to comfort.”

He kisses Cas’ cheekbone, as he settles back down, their legs entwined.

“Heavier,” Cas whispers, squeezing his eyes shut.

Dean double-checks himself and notices he’s subconsciously trying to hold some of his own weight still. So he obeys and hears the relieved sound pressed out of Cas.

“I… I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

He starts to card his fingers through Cas’ hair. His breath ghosts over Cas’ cheek and neck. A quick shiver goes through him and Dean looks up. All he sees his one of Cas’ eyes, his nose. The way his lashes flutter suggests he’s returning to himself.

“My chest hurts.”

“Want me to get off?”

“Maybe later.”

It’s a joke in poor taste, especially for Cas, but it signals something’s shifting.

“Not yet,” Cas adds. “Sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize.”

“You shouldn’t need to deal with this.”

Dean expresses his disagreement with a sound, which ticks up the corner of Cas’ mouth. Slow but steady. He lifts his weight a bit and Cas lets him, so they move. Dean rolls to Cas’ side of the bed, Cas bodily following him to minimize the space that would separate them.

He searches Cas’ face and holds his gaze. “I chose you a long time ago, Cas. Whatever you bring to the table, you’re safe, I’m here, we’ll deal with it.”

Cas lets out a soft sob, but it’s just that. His eyes track the room and he frowns for a moment, a sordid smile forming.

Dean knows why this is happening.

It’s why Cas thinks Lucifer’s in the house. Or dreamt he was back there. Either, or. Stuck. Unable to escape or get away. Lucifer didn’t respect the end of it. The new boundary he had no say over. No longer having any control over Cas.

Despite being in shambles, emotionally and physically, Cas stood his ground after that hospital visit. He forced Lucifer out of his life. When Lucifer invaded Cas’ apartment, the cops got involved. Gabe moved in with his brother for a while, which got a bit cramped. But they were used to worse as kids. Sam and Dean spent inordinate amounts of time with them, which eventually led to Gabe finally fessing up his feelings for Sam.

Lucifer vanished into the crowd of humanity.

Dean understood for the first time how strong his Cas was. Now he knows he was still off by miles. It was also when he realized his feelings for Cas went far beyond anything he’d ever experienced in his life. Worst timing, of course. Cas didn’t need that at the time. He needed family. Friends. Loved ones, who understood him and held his space safe.

He really should have paid Lucifer a visit. Maybe he still can.

“Think you are able to get back to sleep?”

Cas buries his nose in Dean’s neck, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “I think so.”

And he does. Surprisingly perhaps, but he does, tucked into Dean’s arm. Warm and safe.

For a long time, Dean, however, doesn’t.

*

The morning is difficult.

Dean wakes up alone. He grumbles, his chest too tight for comfort. Cas let him sleep in, likely out of guilt. It was too much to hope that Lucifer’s effects would limit themselves to Cas knocking his shin against the coffee table and having a small outburst.

Groaning, Dean realizes he has trouble moving his body. His muscles feel heavy and his eyes refuse to open fully. He figures it is due to the overall drop in physical activity and a lack of purpose, perhaps. Or the intensity of last night lingering. Dragging himself to the bathroom, he pees before brushing his teeth. The water in his face helps somewhat, but still…

Cas is working in his office. He brings him a fresh cup of tea so he can steal a kiss. Dean has no qualms about reading Cas openly, for which he earns a soft, grateful smile and another, much longer kiss that releases butterflies around his heart. When they open their eyes, he finds a renewed sense of calm in those ocean blues. With another kiss and a nod, he leaves him in peace after, because he knows Cas’ work is a means to regain control as well. 

In an attempt to get his blood flowing, he squeezes in a workout with pull-ups, push-ups and crunches, but he isn’t really feeling it and gets tired before he is even halfway through. Frustrated, he stands around the living room for a bit, unsure what to do.

“Hey, Cas?”

“Hmm?”

“Want something from the store? I’m taking Baby out for a spin and dropping by the apartment.”

Cas’ bespectacled face peeks out from the office. He leans his hand against the door frame, his cheek to his hand. “Do we really need anything? I mean, if you don’t need to go, it’s maybe best to avoid…”

“People?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I know we’re running out of eggs.”

Cas smiles, as he steps out of the office. “If you didn’t make omelets or pancakes for breakfast nearly every day…”

“You’re welcome.” He means to say it playfully, but somehow it comes out as mildly grumpy.

“Dean.”

Shit.

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

He scoffs, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m just a bit restless. And I dunno, my muscles feel heavy. Sluggish.”

Blue eyes search his face, their depths stirring with worry, and he wishes he’d kept his trap shut. Cas isn’t far from apologizing again and they don’t need to revisit that. Unless Cas brings it up. Maybe. He’s not sure about that.

“I’m fine. I worked out, but I’d like to get Baby’s engine running and just… move some more.”

“We can go for a walk later?”

“Yeah, sure,” he nods. “So nothing for you?”

“Kitty litter? Though I think she’s been pooping in the garden, the little shit.”

“Pun intended, I’m sure,” Dean snickers. “Okay, I’ll be back soon and I’ll shower after I’m done handling whatever I bring back.”

“Please be safe,” Cas says, wrapping his arms around him.

His heart beats faster in that good way when Cas kisses him and he’s not sure why, but he holds on tighter and longer than he should.

*

On a whim, Dean drops by his apartment first. He sighs in relief when, surprise, there are no new bills. And the thought hits him. Given that he moved in with Cas, there’s no point holding onto this place, especially since it costs money. He grimaces, because he realizes he needs to take up that debate with Cas. Holy shit. For a few odd moments, he stares around the little apartment, which never really felt like him. He clicks his tongue, nods and starts moving.

<< Angel, I dropped by my place to pack up some more stuff. Gonna cancel the rent on it, so we need to sort out a way for me to pay my share on your end. x

**> > Oh, good idea to cut that cost. We can talk about the other stuff face to face. Not todayyyyy, I don’t feel like finances. Bike? X**

<< Are you by any chance attached to my bike?

**> > More the visual of you on it. Or working on it. Or near it. Maybe.**

Dean laughs. 

<< We can pick it up tomorrow, if it’s urgent, that visual.

**> > It might be. Did you shop yet?**

<< Not yet. Be back soon though.

Snickering, he tucks the phone away. The next hour turns into a whirlwind of efficient, full-scale packing. 

“Oooh,” he sing-songs, when he clears his junkyard room.

The smallest room in his apartment, it basically holds everything that doesn’t fit anywhere else. He decides to take his work tools and his weapons home. The tent too, because he suddenly has the idea to set it up in the garden for Cas. Following that little trail lighting up in his brain, he grabs two sleeping bags, the double mattress and his solar panel string lights. An extension cord and a heating element, though they likely won’t need it.

Dean doesn’t really own that much, but he still can’t get everything in Baby in one go. Her trunk is full by the time he’s done. Grinning, a giddy feeling comes over him. He can easily get the rest of his stuff out within a week and send the email to cancel his rent.

The world seems to make more sense again, as he gets on the road for his next stop.

He eyes the entrance to the store. There’s a young dude outside wiping down the carts, before handing them to customers. Shopping has clearly become a quieter affair. Or maybe he got lucky with his timing. He watches a couple walk up to the dude. They each get one cart, even when they clearly came in together.

“To keep your distance,” the kid smiles.

Generally, they seem to prefer it if you come alone. The lines outside are longer, so he waits until he’s allowed in. But once inside, it is so much calmer than usual. A lot of people are wearing masks and gloves. And quite a few of them are visibly nervous, dodging him in the alleys or get weird when they do the little dance in front of the same product.

He settles on eggs, more fruit, fish, a bunch of nuts and seeds, and some fresh vegetables. Kitty litter, though they’re out of the brand that they’ve been getting so far. If Claire’s true to her teenager tendencies, that might not fly.

The cashiers have permanent access to a disinfectant and they urge customers to pay by card as much as possible, so he does, which drags his attention kicking and screaming to his financials. Canceling the apartment makes sense, but he needs to find a way to pitch in for Cas with more than his savings.

He blasts Led Zeppelin on the way home to Cas.


	26. April 12th 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you sure we got everything? It seems less than it should be.”
> 
> “I always told you I don’t own much. The restaurant also holds a lotta my stuff in the attic. You’ll be happy I’m not moving everything.”
> 
> Cas makes a face at him. “I want everything. The house already smells different.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluffffff. I happily admit I fully share in Cas' soft spot here. Readily. ^^ (Those chocolate bunnies are real.)
> 
> Part of me wants to have these languid days. (I'm still working from home, which comes close enough and blessings counted.) Part of me wants our world to change for the better so much, it kinda hurts.
> 
> As an FYI, I believe this story will come to an end on the 19th, which is the current end date of our quarantine. Even if it gets extended (which is likely given the numbers we're facing), I believe I need to bring them to some kind of ending. The pacing of this story is mucking with other work I should be doing. This is true to form for me: I have a plan, but I don't always think it through. A lotta heart though. 
> 
> So that gives us another week with these two. If you have any last requests or questions, please share them, so I can try to incorporate them while I work ahead!
> 
> I hope you all remain safe and sound.  
> Hugs to you,  
> Mal

Dean slams Baby’s trunk shut and looks up at the apartment building. He’s only felt this unequivocally certain of a few things in his life before and he’s glad for it. With everything else going on, he needs this feeling. His win. 

Cas emerges from it with the last box, balanced on one arm, locking the door. He tosses the keys to Dean, who catches them easily.

“Are you sure we got everything? It seems less than it should be.”

“I know I don’t own much."

"I didn't know it was like this. You barely let people in here."

"Probably because it never really felt like home. The restaurant also holds a lotta my stuff in the attic. You’ll be happy I’m not moving everything.”

Cas makes a face at him. “I want everything. The house already smells different.”

“Gee, Cas, don’t hold back. Do I need another shower?”

“Not like that.” Cas puts the box on the passenger seat and grins at him over Baby’s roof. “And even then… It’s a good thing. I like your scent.”

Dean frowns and lets out an utterly bemused sigh. He’s experiencing that more often lately. At times it’s a terrifying feeling low in his gut, because he has trouble believing it’s real. Like he’ll wake up from a dream and find himself without Cas somehow. Other moments, a swarm of butterflies takes up residence under his sternum and refuses to leave. It’d be tiring if it wasn’t so perfect.

Cas scrunches up his face, scanning the street to either side. It’s empty. “You do know we’re not supposed to be out here?”

“Hmm, yet here you are,” Dean nods.

His heart jumps at the sight of Cas glaring at him fondly for pointing that out again. “You have the best and worst influence, hotshot.”

“Don’t worry. With the increase in domestic violence and having to prevent large gatherings, the cops have better things to worry about than two rogue elements moving some boxes.”

“Humanity at its best,” Cas grimaces, but he tilts his head at Dean meaningfully. “And you wonder where Adam gets it.”

“I don’t wonder,” Dean laughs. “I know. Doesn’t mean I can’t attempt to get some common sense in. Alright, give me a sec. I’ll be right back with the bike.”

Quirking his eyebrow up delightfully, Cas hums in approval, squinting. He rests both arms on the roof, drumming his fingers expectantly. “Please do.”

Dean rounds the corner to the garage box that came with the apartment. At a price, of course. His landlord’s a bit of a dick, especially seeing the state of his place. Former place. Suddenly he’s glad he’ll be rid of him. He kicks up the stand and rolls his bike out, his helmet dangling from the handlebar.

The weight feels like blessed freedom under his hands as he makes his way back to Cas. Dean can’t help but grin at the look Cas bestows on him. He comes to a halt in front of Cas and Baby.

Throwing his leg over, he wiggles from side to side until he’s comfortable, trying not to grin when Cas turns around for a better look.

“Hey, Cas, catch.”

Despite his eyes being glued to Dean and the bike, Cas’ reflexes are golden and he plucks the Baby's keys out of the air with grace.

“I’ll see you at home.”

“How about you get the engine running and I watch you drive off.”

He’s not going to argue with that. Double-checking there are no spiders in his helmet, he puts it on. Turning the ignition, he chuckles as the rumbling purr kicks in. He shoots Cas a kissy face and a brazen wink, before throwing the visor down.

Cas is shamelessly leaning his face in his hand, elbow resting on Baby’s roof, tracking his every move as he maneuvers the bike off the pavement and rides off.

*

Dean’s lying on his stomach on the warm floor, humming along to a tune he doesn’t know. One of Cas’ playlists that’s now running on his Playstation.

Aside from moving his last belongings, it’s a calm day. He sent the email to his landlord, trying not to gloat on paper and ceased the payment order, expecting a bs email in reply about damages and whatever. Dude's not allowed out of his house, but watch him do A Dumb just to prove Dean has to shell out money. His bike is still outside, because there’s no room. Cas’ garage currently resembles the junkyard from the old lady in Labyrinth, which Cas thankfully hasn’t noticed yet. Or he’s ignoring it. Dean will sort that in the coming days. The weather predictions are good enough to leave his bike out for a night or two.

He’s trying to coax Claire into coming closer, by making kissy sounds. She’s having none of it, but she’s not running either. As far as he can read her body language, she’s quite pleased sitting there all Sphinx-like, squinting her pretty eyes at him.

“You know what?”

Cas looks up from the book he’s reading on the couch. His eyes catch on the two chocolate bunnies on the coffee table. True to humaniy's good form, these bunnies are wearing face masks. “What?”

“I always thought Sam was something of a puppy, but now I’m not so sure.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, are torties exceptionally good at bitch faces or is it just a general cat thing?” He cocks his head at her. “Or a Claire thing.”

“I believe the general consensus is that it’s a cat thing,” Cas laughs.

Dean extends his index finger to her and her face scrunches up as if she’s sucking on a lemon. “She’s weirdly cute, even when she’s glaring.”

“It’s part of their charm and why we are unable to resist loving them. And just so you know, you’re getting cat kisses.”

“I am?”

“Yes,” Cas smiles. “See how she blinks at you? That squinty sweet squeezing her eyes shut?”

“You mean what basically makes her look like she doesn’t give a flying fuck.”

“They always look like that. Those are cat kisses.”

“Huh…” Dean smiles, feeling stupidly elated at receiving cat kisses from Claire. “Love you too, sweetheart.”

He reaches out and she allows a few scratches behind her ear, before she does that slow shaking of her fur, as if her ear itches and Dean’s personally responsible for it.

“Brat,” he mutters. “How’s the book?”

Cas is reading _Sapiens_ , one of Dean’s books they moved over. “It’s good, though not exactly light reading, so I’m alternating it with some internet shenanigans.”

“Define shenanigans?”

“Just some research for some of my translations.”

It’s not an evasive answer per se, because Cas does a lot of research for his work. But his tone is off, as if he’s nervous. Dean looks at him, finding his perfect profile outlined against the pale wall. His eyes are focused on the book, but he’s not reading anymore, his thoughts in different spheres. He can’t hold back the smile, when he notices the pink hint to his cheekbones, and holds his silence, not wishing to disturb.

Right now, anything positive can take up as much space as it wants.

Instead he rolls onto his back and closes his eyes, relishing the feel of warm sunlight. He can needle the information out of Cas another time. Or, knowing Cas, he’ll give himself away one way or the other.

That’s what’s so delightful about being with someone like Cas. In some ways, Cas is still an enigma to him and his waters run deep. Hell, Dean’s sure he’ll never fully figure him out and most of the time, he runs on instinct. But Cas keeps surprising him and Dean can only hope he does the same for him. 

In other ways, he knows him so well, he can rely on certain tendencies. Whatever Cas is ‘researching’, it’ll come out into the open at some point.

For now he’s just relieved some sense of calm has returned for Cas.


	27. April 13th 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Can we talk about Lucifer?”
> 
> Cas’ hands still momentarily, but he’s quick to try and hide it, knocking the tap open a bit more heavy-handed than usual. “In what sense?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for past abuse.
> 
> So this angst snuck in. I had to follow through on some of the original nuggets. My apologies, if that's upsetting or not what you came here for. For personal reasons, it all too easily does in my stories.
> 
> The happy ending stands. Trust me on that one.
> 
>  **Legit question: how much drama are you in for?** I have an idea for Lucifer to show up... but I can take it or leave it really. If no Luci visit, more fluff. ^^ What else did you expect by now?
> 
> To offset this story coming to an end soon, I can point you to both my Pinefest and Omegaverse bang. The Pinefest fic posts on April 29th and the promo is [right here](https://tmblr.co/ZT4D5kX-TKpvuu00). My Omegaverse fic posts on May 19th and that promo starts on April 15th, which I'll share then.
> 
> The rapid ragu is over [here](https://maleyah-givemetomorrow.tumblr.com/post/615036082665488384/apocalypse-recipe-5-rapid-ragu). Dean's prep (or mine, rather) differs from the original a bit, but flavor's good!
> 
> As always, you, like Cas, are loved,  
> Mal

Dean puts his earbuds in to distract himself from the sounds Cas is making. They’re not nearly as Zen as the ones the lady on the television produces.

Isn’t yoga about flow and mindfulness?

It must be his lizard brain that’s reading the signs wrong.

Refocusing, he sets the timer on his phone to align with the timing on the washer. He put in a load of t-shirts and cotton sweaters and hoodies on a cycle of an hour and a half. So far, he’s learned that if they don’t set a timer, both he and Cas tend to forget they put in laundry in the first place.

He’s okay with hanging it up to dry, even if it’s been in there for a while after the cycle ended, but Cas isn’t.

Laying his phone aside, he grabs the stack of comics he plucked from his collection and starts reading, in an attempt to get lost in the world of Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman. Alas, even on mute, Cas is distracting as fuck.

At least he’s not wearing the orange shorts.

There’s a position Cas keeps repeating that has Dean glancing over the top of his comic, like a kid sneaking looks at a scary movie when not supposed to. He’s heard the woman talking often enough to know the names of the positions. The flow starts in downward dog, bringing it down to plank and cobra, back to plank and up to downward dog. The sequence has Cas’ muscles rippling in the sunlight, a thin layer of sweat soon setting him aglow as he maintains a glorious pace.

It’s the cobra that does Dean’s head in. Pushing up on his arms, Cas’ spine bends beautifully as he tilts his face to the heavens, while his ass is accentuated, all of his muscles pulled taut. The moment before his pelvis hits the yoga mat, where Dean gets to see the smoothness of his body moving makes him forget what he’s reading.

It makes him want to be underneath Cas, though that would muck it all up. Cas’ face is set in determined focus, but so calm, Dean’s almost envious. He’s at once impressed with Cas’ cool and desperately wants to ruffle his proverbial feathers.

Definitely his lizard brain.

And he hasn’t forgotten Cas’ nightmare two nights ago.

When his timer goes off, it jolts him out of his shameless observations. Cas is now starfished, eyes closed and face relaxed. Dean puts his comic aside and gets up to handle the laundry. 

He can’t resist giving Cas a quick kiss in passing, chuckling when he has to dodge out of grabby hands.

*

“Hey, Cas?”

He’s spooning the candied onion in with the bacon bits and garlic, while Cas does the dishes they heaped up during the day. They’ve managed to stay on top of that kind of stuff decently, though neither one of them is fond of cleaning. Dean’s pristine when it comes to his kitchen. Everything else is debatable. And Cas, for all his cleanliness, actually hates the act of cleaning.

Problems for another day. He wonders which one of them will lose patience first.

Right now, he wants to bring up the elephant in the room and he likes to think Cas is aware. He’s too smart not to.

“Can we talk about Lucifer?”

Cas’ hands still momentarily, but he’s quick to try and hide it, knocking the tap open a bit more heavy-handed than usual. “In what sense?”

“In an ‘he’s your ex’ kind of sense.”

“You knew that before.”

“I did,” Dean admits. “Didn’t know he could trigger nightmares. I feel there’s some stuff I didn’t fully realize. Like I’ve only now been adding two and two together…”

Cas’ voice is tighter, his eyes focused intently on the soapy water. “Such as?”

Dean chews his lip and his words in silence, giving them some thought before putting them out there. “We were there when things went wrong, but that was an escalation. The first time you waved it away as his temper. The second time you said you provoked it, which never sat well with me...”

“I did. I knew exactly which buttons to press to piss him off.”

Nodding, he glances sideways, trying to not burn the food. He tips the meat into the pan and starts breaking it apart with the wooden spoon. Part of him wants to know why Cas provoked Lucifer, knowing what he’d risk and he doesn’t know what answer to expect. “Okay.”

“Because he was always so much sweeter to me after,” Cas says.

His mouth forms a tight line and there’s a mixture of pain and disgust warring for dominance in his expression. He sounds tired when he says it. Dean’s insides churn at the blunt admission.

“The third time,” Cas continues pointedly. “I basically got what I deserved for telling him I was leaving him. In the heat of the moment, at least. I went through a myriad of ‘yes’, ‘no’ and ‘maybe’ in the wake of it.”

“I remember.”

“I’m not sure how or when we got lost in that dynamic, if that’s what you’re wondering. When Lucifer and I met… I was young and unsure of who I was or what I wanted. His opinions were so much clearer and stronger than mine, and initially he was so sweet. I just… went with it.”

Cas frowns as he rinses the glasses and plates. “It wasn’t until I was head over heels that his… expectations became more extreme. And I wanted so much to please him.”

For a moment, Dean sees red. The behavior fits the predators he’s met throughout his life. Reel someone in, find their weakness, exploit it. Some of them do it on purpose, some of them are simply wired that way, for whatever reason… It also raises a red flag when it comes to Cas’ insistence to please Dean. To make him happy.

Boundaries. The word burns against his retinas.

“Cas,” he mumbles, staring really hard at the fat oozing out of the meat. “Did he ever force you into anything?”

“More than once, but not the way you think. It’s difficult to explain, but… I guess you could say I rolled over to keep the peace. To be what was expected of me,” Cas says, tone even. “I’ve done the therapy, Dean. I know which lines were blurred, crossed and pissed all over.”

Dean winces. “I… Sorry. It’s just, since you mentioned being asexual when we were in college, I started piecing together some stuff you said throughout the years, without really saying them? I’m not sure why I figured it out only now.”

“That’s okay. I hid stuff well. And I certainly didn’t put them together while I was with him. After, I had my therapist to talk to. There was no need to throw my trauma at all my loved ones.”

That has him looking at Cas and the space between them feels so large when Cas meets his eyes. There’s dread in them, which he needs to understand rather than hug away, though it’s all he wants to do. Eventually it sinks in.

“Because you thought it’d change our opinion of you… Fucking hell, Cas.”

Cas shrugs delicately, straightening up. “Doesn’t it? Knowing I allowed that to happen to me?”

“I’m pretty sure your therapist would have your hide for saying that,” Dean says.

Which, thankfully, provokes a laugh, albeit a somewhat wretched one. Cas tilts his head to the side, nodding, and suddenly he’s rambling. 

“You’re right. She would. It’s an old voice, that one and not even my own. Lucifer always said no one else would love me the way he did. Which is likely piping up, because I’m feeling very exposed right now… and I guess…” He makes a soft tsk sound and his breath comes out shaky, as he avoids Dean’s eyes. “I guess some part of me is still afraid of how you’ll respond to this.”

“You didn’t allow jackshit, Cas. Lucifer abused you.”

“I know.”

Such a dead-pan, accepting tone, it has Dean reeling. There’s an expectancy in Cas’ eyes that’s making his heart lurch. Silent questions, laced with fear and uncertainty and yet, somehow, hope. That the voice is wrong. That Lucifer was wrong.

It hits like an eight-wheeler truck taking Baby in the driver’s seat side.

He turns the fire to its lowest setting, wiping his hands on the towel that’s hanging over his shoulder. Cas starts to protest, his face betraying his unease at.. what, hijacking the moment, but Dean lifts his hand at him, raising his eyebrows. Stepping closer, he leans against the counter, searching Cas’ face. 

It takes him a moment to arrange the words in his head, and even as he does, he’s not sure they’ll be good enough to express how he feels.

But he’s saying them.

And his Cas is hearing them.

So hopefully that makes up for his lack of eloquence.

“Nothing you ever say or do, or said or did, or will say or do, can ever change how I feel about you, Cas.”

“What if I turn into an assbutt?”

Dean snorts, cupping Cas’ elbow in his hand and giving it a light squeeze. “Have you met you?”

“What if I stop wanting sex again?”

He doesn’t even have to think about it, though he can sense the urgent energy behind the words on Cas’ part. “Fine by me.”

Cas’ voice breaks and his jaw flexes beautifully. “Dean!”

“Cas?”

“You can’t say those things lightly. Not from the likes of you.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“But…”

“There is no likes of me, Cas. There’s just me. And you. And if, for whatever reason, you decide sex is off the table, I’m okay with that. Cause it’s about you.”

Cas’ sleeve is getting soaked, because he’s staring at Dean. Openly, sufficiently appalled. It’s good to know he can still provoke that reaction from Cas, especially for something as important as this.

“You’d do that…?”

“For a variety of reasons, but yes.”

“What if…”

“What if you sprout wings and a halo, Cas. It’s all good.”

“But…”

“God, you’re stubborn.”

Cas genuinely squints at him, some of his usual sass seeping through. “You knew that too.”

“Our first time?” he asks.

He grins at the words, because at 30, he didn’t really expect to have to use them with such heavy intent. When Cas flusters, Dean bites down on his lower lip, trying to prevent it from growing wider, but the space between them suddenly crackles with a different kind of heady energy.

“Yes?” Cas asks, tone teasingly gentle.

“When you said you wanted me to be happy?”

“I do.”

“Surprisingly, it goes both ways,” Dean smirks. “Who knew, right?”

Cas flicks his wet hand at him, drops catching him in the face, and Dean closes his eyes against it. “You’re being a brat.”

He wipes his face with the towel, shooting Cas a heavy look. “But is my bratty point making it through your thick skull?”

“Takes one to know one. How can you be happy when that’s such a big part of you?”

Dean shies away from the extent to which Lucifer’s manipulations did a number on Cas. He already knows this won’t be the last time he has to say this out loud.

“Sex does not constitute my happiness. Is sex with you awesome? Hell, yes, and then some. Do I want the chance to explore that with you more? Yes, please, with a cherry or ten on top. But my happiness is not dependent on it. It’s dependent on yours, if that makes sense.”

Cas’ cheeks are tinged pink and his eyes are skittering around, as he tries to focus on the matter at hand. But his mouth quirks up lightly, because he’s charmed and damn, if that doesn’t warm Dean’s heart.

“It does, but it seems dangerous to exclude your own needs.”

“Trust me, my needs ain’t being excluded right now. Which part of the last-“ He counts. “- twenty-six days makes you think they were?”

Cas eyes him a touch testily. “I don’t know? You tell me. You do have a tendency to put everyone else's needs over your own."

Dean splutters a bit. This knowing each other through and through thing works both ways and Cas stopped holding back. “Fair point, but I haven't. They weren’t. There’s many ways to figure out one’s needs and wants. Mine come in various degrees of intensity and priority.”

“Is this a fancy version of ‘if you love them, you’ll let them go’?”

Dean snorts and grins wickedly at him. “Like I’d let you go without a fight. Like I wouldn’t do everything in my power to fix what needs fixing. But in the very end, if that’s what you need, then yes.”

Cas pouts. “I don’t need that.”

“Not the point here, Cas.”

He smiles at Dean. Genuinely, gummy, for the first time since the conversation started. “I’m starting to see that.”

“Good. Now, uhh, focus,” he snaps his fingers at Cas. “Your sweater’s getting soaked.”

Cas jerks his arms up, sloshing water out of the sink and down the cupboard. “God-fucking-shit-balls!”

Dean barks a laugh and hands Cas his towel. “God, I love your pottymouth. Bobby would have been proud.”

Grabbing the towel, Cas starts quickly wiping down the cupboard, before the water pools around his feet. “My what? I don’t have one.”

He senses the energy shift once more.

“Sure you don’t,” he grins, as he turns up the heat again. “How hungry are you?”

Cas looks up from his squatting position. “Starving actually.”

“Alright, ten more minutes, tops.” 

He grabs the canned tomatoes and lentils, adding both to the pan, before adding a can worth of water.

"Okay, good. Should be done with the dishes then," Cas nods, as he gets back on his feet.

Cas pulls his sweater off and tosses it aside, suddenly exposing Dean to miles of tanned skin. The sight bodily pulls Dean in. There’s a brief moment, where Cas catches him and Dean tries not to stare, but fuck it, he already sat through that yoga session this morning.

“Heya, Cas,” he smiles, eyes softening.

A sigh escapes Cas’ lips, the effects of which travel on his spine and relax his shoulders. “Hello, Dean.”

The kiss they share is gentle in ways only unspoken thank yous between the two of them can be.


	28. April 14th 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What happened, Sam? Did you get ill?”
> 
> “What? No! It’s Dad… Dad called.”
> 
> Cas lets out a soft curse and Dean balks, hands falling idle on the counter.
> 
> “Dad called?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild warning for John's A+ parenting, but there's barely any detail. 
> 
> Good ol' John Winchester. My beta and I got sidetracked about him in the comments. It's always a catch 22 with John, though I try not to write him as a complete assbutt. He started out as a caricature in the show, but grew into something more when they redeemed him, and something way more in the fandom. (I have a hard time telling apart cannon vs. fandom intel by now, but don't care either way.)
> 
> Hope. If there's anything at the end of this, it's that. Hope.  
> Love,  
> Mal

As soon as Cas comes out of his office, Dean makes grabby hands at him from the corner spot on the couch. It’s been a lazy day, spent largely in said spot with games, a book, music and Claire. He thinks he deserves one, but ironically it’s making him feel a bit restless. Or bored. True boredom doesn’t happen to him often, so it’s a foreign, unsettling feeling.

“What?” Cas chuckles, his face lighting up when he sees Dean.

He simply repeats the grabby gesture, which brings Cas in closer.

Awesome.

Cas comes up to the side of the couch and Dean twists around, so he can reach for him and press his face into Cas’ abdomen.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

Cas’ breath ghosts over the back of his neck. “Try again, but for real.”

He grumbles lightly, pressing into Cas. “Fine, I swear. Just tired.”

“It is a symptom.”

“I’m aware.”

“Have you been taking your temperature?”

He nods, planting kisses to Cas’ abdomen. “My temps are stable and good. I swear, I’m fine.”

Sufficiently reassured, Cas’ cool hands slip under his wifebeater, drawing out an involuntary groan. Letting his own explore underneath Cas’ t-shirt, he wraps his arms around his waist.

“Oh, that’s nice.”

“God, you’re warm,” Cas mumbles. “You sure?”

“Please, just cuddles.”

“You’re adorable…”

Cas’ fingers begin a slow dance across Dean’s shoulders and upper back. They find the knot between his shoulders, fingertips pressing relief to each side of his spine. Up, down, and they butterfly over his skin, leaving cooling traces in their wake.

“Mmmh, Cassss,” he mumbles. “So good.”

“Uh-huhmm.”

He sounds like he’s smiling. Also awesome. Cas’ touches and smiles.

When Cas uses his knuckles, drawing circles that move up to his neck and back down, inch by inch, Dean turns to goo. Muscles going slack, he drops his cheek to the back of the couch and lets his arms dangle.

Cas chuckles sweetly. “Did I find an off button?”

All Dean can manage is a sound that he hopes resembles an affirmation.

“Dean?”

Another primitive sound, but heyyy, Cas clearly speaks his language, because he continues.

“Why did you bring the tent home?”

“Date,” he slurs.

He turns his head and leans forward a bit, so Cas’ hands get more access. It remains quiet, while Cas obliges. Next to Dean, Claire starts purring by proxy. Maybe love can be tangible.

“A camping in the garden date?”

He nods, trying not to drool on the couch. It takes some effort, but he brings his arms up. Hooking the fingers of one hand around the wrist on the other, he rests them around Cas’ waist once more, glad for the contact.

“Tomorrow?”

Chuckling at how young Cas sounds in this eagerness, Dean moves, tilting his head up so he can look at him. “Any time. I’ll set it up.”

Blue eyes crinkle and Cas bends over to kiss the top of his head. Dean expects him to go, but he stays right where he is, cool hands on his warm skin. Closing his eyes, Dean breathes him in. A slow day. Theirs. Somehow more so than before. He can get used to this. And he’s sure he’s never going to want to let go. Forever doesn’t sound half bad in these cocooned moments, when he can hold the world at bay.

*

His phone rings when they’re in the middle of folding laundry. When he lifts a bunch of towels out of the basket, a warm waft of their laundry detergent meets him.

“Heya, Sam,” he smiles, putting him on speaker.

It stays quiet too long.

“Sammy?”

“Dean, yeah, I… Sorry, I just…”

Cas’ gestures slow down, his brow knitting together, as his eyes fall to the phone. They look at each other.

“What happened, Sam? Did you get ill?”

“What? No! It’s Dad… Dad called.”

Cas lets out a soft curse and Dean balks, hands falling idle on the counter.

“ _ Dad _ called?”

“Yeah,” Sam says, the word carried on a disbelieving laugh.

They haven’t heard from John in years, which is something that just sort of happened. They stopped calling, knowing that John never calls first.

“Whoa, everything’s crawling out of the woodworks, it seems.”

Sam scoffs gently. “Kinda…”

“Well, how’d it go?”

“Surprisingly well. I mean, awkward like you wouldn’t believe, but… he called to check how I was doing, knowing I’d be on the frontline.”

It’s like opening a closet, which you know is stocked to the brim, and letting whatever’s inside tumble out.

“He asked about you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I told him to call you, if he wants to know, but that was spurred by annoyance rather than common sense. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re right. He’s the one who kicked you out and never stopped us, when I joined. It’s cool.”

“Haven’t heard that one in a while,” Cas says sharply.

“Oh, hey, Cas. Sorry to drag this into your home.”

“Our home.” Cas lets rip a sardonic snort. “Dean’s right. Your father isn’t the only thing coming out of the woodworks.”

“Fuck… Your dad too?”

“Wait a minute! Our home? You moved in, Dean-o?”

“Hey, Gabe,” Dean says, unable to fight back a smile. “I did. Come at me.”

“It’s about fucking time. And excuse me… What about our dad?”

“Not our dad,” Cas says. “I’d almost prefer it, had it been him. Almost. Lucifer.”

“What’s that big bag of dicks done now?”

“Nothing. He just texted me, implying I must be going through a tough time right now and asking if I was alright.”

“You know,” Gabe says. “Dean has contacts. It’s not too late to take him up on that offer.”

Cas bats his lashes at Dean, oozing coy curiosity. “Pray tell… Which offer?”

“He never told you?”

“Those contacts are long gone.”

“Do I need to get out my lie-detector sock puppet?”

“Please, don’t,” Dean says, “Fine. Maybe they’re not fully gone. But I don’t wanna owe those people, especially since I can hold my own. And can we stop pretending this needs escalating? He tried to get to Cas. He failed.”

He winks at Cas, who shoots him a grateful smile. “I got this.”

“No wonder he thinks we got mob vibes…”

Cas’ expression is entirely too intense to his liking. When Dean narrows his eyes at him, Cas licks his lips in an unmistakable way, which has his mind going blank and his mouth stuttering.

“What, Dean?”

“You’ve got some kinks in there I had no fucking clue about,” he loud-whispers.

Cocking his eyebrow, Cas tilts his shoulder at him. “Don’t like ‘em?”

Pursing his lips, Dean’s about to tell or, maybe, show him how much he likes ‘em, when Sam interrupts.

“Guys, we’re still here.”

“Right, shit,” he says. “So what’s happening with Dad? Is he, like, making his way back into your life? Is he asking for money? What?”

“Nope to all of that, I think? He literally called to ask if we were okay. Didn’t snap at me when I poured a generous glass of sass. Behaved when he realized Gabe was here too.”

“Huh…”

“Yeah.”

There’s a strange feeling in the air. Pressure on his skin. As if he has to  _ do _ something with this new information. He’s noticed it on social media. Everyone trying to reinvent themselves. Become their best selves. While others are falling apart.

He hates it. Not everyone has the luxury or the energy to use this weird period in history to perfect themselves or gain a new skill. Some people don’t have an off button, it seems, and what’s worse, they force others to feel guilty when they can’t keep up. Or don’t step up.

“I ain’t calling him, Sammy. I mean, I’m glad he called you and the talk went well, but… I don’t need this. Not right now.”

“Not expecting you to. This is a head’s up, in case he calls you.”

“Duly noted then.” He inhales sharply and grimaces, when he feels the question bubble up. “Was he okay?”

“Yes, from the sounds of it. He, uhh, he is holding down a job. I mean, if he isn’t lying. He’s with the cops.”

Frontline too. Suddenly that little snippet of disturbing news comes back to him, the one about people spitting cops in the face, saying they’ve got corona. Dean exhales roughly through his nose, as he closes his eyes and rubs his forehead.

“Okay. Sure.”

“How did he even make it in?” Gabe asks.

Sam huffs. “Dad can be charming if he wants to be. Let’s be fair, if he doesn’t drink, there’s little he can’t do. How else do you think he ever landed mom?”

“Sheer luck,” Dean says. “Thanks for letting me know, Sam. How are you doing?”

“Status quo. It’s not exactly letting up, but less deaths today.”

“Day by day, Samshine,” Gabe says softly.

“That,” Dean nods, as he starts folding again. “Listen to the shortbread boyfriend.”

“You know what the shortbread boyfriend’s doing right now?”

“Either flipping me off or something unspeakable to my brother.”

“Hey, he’s learning,” Gabe says on an audible smile. “Close but no dice though. Wanna know which one it is?”

“That probably means Sam is doing the unspeakables,” Cas says dryly.

Dean scrunches up his face hard enough for his dimples to come out. “Boredom. It brings out the best in us Winchesters.”

“Oh, really?” Cas asks.

“Does it?” Gabe echoes. “What have you been up to?”

“Wholesome stuff,” Dean grins. “Moving out of the apartment and canceling the rent on it. Going to set up the tent in the garden tomorrow.”

“Hmm, that sounds cozy,” Sam smiles.

“Yeah, I wish we had a garden.”

“We can build a fort in the living room, if you like?”

“Awww,” Dean smiles. “Adorable.”

“Shut up,” Sam scoffs, but Dean can hear he’s smiling. “Though I’m hard-pressed not to be aware…”

“Of the gift of time?” Cas asks.

“Yeah. Despite the hours I’m working, the time we do spend together… I dunno, it feels different.”

“I’m sure the fresh love birds over there understand.”

“Hmm, not wrong,” Dean says. “We’re folding laundry.”

“We’re going to start cooking,” Sam says. “Which sounds more mundane than it is, but we rarely had time to cook together before.”

Gabe laughs. “So disturbingly wholesome, isn’t it?”

“Some of it, for sure,” Dean admits.

“Alright, Gabe’s brandishing a knife as if he knows how to handle one…”

“Bullshit. Dean taught him,” Cas protests. “You left holes in the kitchen wall when you practiced!”

Gabe laughs. “It’s been a while.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Sam says, tone steelier. “Chocolate everywhere is one thing. Holes from throwing knives quite another.”

“Aww, now I want to practice,” Dean mutters, casting a sly glance towards Cas.

“Garden,” Cas says promptly. “I think there might even be an old target in the garage.”

“Right! From your archery days. Awesome. So camping in the garden and knife throwing.”

“Your hoarding tendencies are coming in handy, Cassie.”

“I don’t hoard!”

“He’s a hamster,” Dean says at the same time.

“Love you too.”

“Alright,” Dean chuckles. “You two have fun cooking. Take care, yeah?”

“You too.”


	29. April 15th 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Y’know, Cas, I think you need to focus on the yoga for it to work.”
> 
> “But I am.”
> 
> “Sure you are. Except if she made the sounds you’re making…” He trails off.
> 
> “Sounds?”
> 
> Dean chuckles darkly, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “So fucking coy, Cas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hums happily* Utter sucker for natural matches. And hey, when writing, we control everything, so here you go. Cas being a tease and Dean engages.
> 
> Let me know how this lands ^^
> 
> Much love to you and yours. Stay safe,  
> Mal

“Sit.”

“But I’ll be out of your hair, Cas.”

“You’ve been out of my hair all day and you’re sun-burned. Sit. Drink and eat something. Here.”

He’s got Dean there. His eyes fall to the plate Cas hands him and his stomach instantly growls at the sight of the two double sandwiches, stacked with dripping bacon, cheese, lettuce and tomatoes.

“The grass is cut, the weeds removed and the tent is up.”

Hand pressed against Dean’s abdomen, Cas kisses him and licks the sweat off his cheek with a teasing hum. Dean’s already plenty warm and he still manages to feel hot under the collar of his non-existent t-shirt.

“I was about to start my yoga. It’s fine.”

Exactly. Like the shorts and tank didn’t give that away.

Dean doesn’t want to contest that, because if he does, he’ll have to admit he’s trying to get away, for the simple reason that he doesn’t think he can sit through another yoga session without losing his mind. Granted, it’s partly his own fault, because somehow he wants to leave that particular initiative to Cas.

New intel and all.

Instead, he lays out a towel on the couch. He gets a beer and a glass of water from the kitchen to go with the food. Tugging at his slacks to let in some air, he settles in, feeling the strain of the work he’s done in his muscles.

“Fuck,” he hisses.

“What is it?”

He makes the mistake of looking up and finds Cas getting down on all fours. Cow pose? Cat pose? One of those two. Right, cow pose, cause cat pose is the one where he arches his back.

“I’m getting soft already,” he says, rolling his shoulders. “Barely a few hours in the garden…”

Cas’ words come out measured, between long in- and exhales. “You were cleaning out the garage while I was working. So that’s about… what, five hours you’ve been working? Most of them in the sun.”

Dean grunts softly.

“And you’ve been suffering that fatigue. Cut yourself some slack, sweetheart.”

The nickname comes out on a low breath, which sends goosebumps across Dean’s sweaty skin. He can tell when Cas’ attention shifts to the exercises and he holds his silence so he can truly focus. Dean narrows his eyes, tracking the movement of Cas’ body, while he slowly eats and drinks his fill. His skin is more than generously sun-kissed, but being inside helps.

To an extent.

He catches and holds his breath, when he’s helplessly drawn in by Cas doing his yoga. Almost imperceptibly, Dean lines his breathing up with Cas’, relishing the intimacy of being in such subtle, quiet sync.

Cas lets out a low groan, when he lies on his back, the soles of his feet pressed together under his bum, both legs falling wide. He’s been doing that one more lately, which seems to benefit his lower back. He gently rocks from side to side, sinking into the mat deeper.

There’s an audible pop. Cas’ moan sends a trail of electrifying energy coursing up and down Dean’s spine, sparking ideas in his head and leaving a deep need swirling hotly in the pit of his being. Its tendrils reach out to his extremities. All of them. His fingers itch to touch Cas and he rubs them together.

“Y’know, Cas, I’m sure you need to focus on the yoga for it to work.”

“But I am.”

“I’m sure you are. Except if she made the sounds you’re making…” He trails off.

“Sounds?”

Dean chuckles darkly, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “So fucking coy, Cas.”

Cas tilts his head up, a knowing smile on his face. “But you’re so distracting, sitting there, thinking I don’t feel your eyes on me. How you look at me.”

“Kinda difficult to ignore when you’re being all…”

Dean gestures at all of Cas, who has the decency to look sheepish, before he closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing.

But Dean’s curiosity is piqued.

“How do I look at you?”

A ghost of a smug smile on Cas' part has Dean sucking in a breath.

“Like a physical touch almost, Dean, which isn’t something I’m used to… And then I want that, that touch and then…”

“You decide to goad me?”

He looks back at Dean, fire in his eyes. “Goad you? Is that what it feels like?”

“Well, it certainly doesn’t feel like you’re doing the exercise the way she is or I’m sure her channel would be behind a paywall.”

With a soft grunt, Cas gets up. He rolls his shoulders and stretches, the top riding up. Dean reflexively licks his lips at the dusky treasure trail he catches a glimpse of.

“Maybe I read up on some stuff.”

The tone is deeply teasing, tempting almost. Dean does a mental backflip and his mouth beats his brain to the punch.

“Some stuff… What stuff do you read up on, angel?”

“Submission?”

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up and Cas shakes his head, swallowing hard, as he squares his shoulders. The little gesture betrays his steel spine once more. How time and again in the face of something new, a potential deep end that should or might scare him to bits, Cas doesn’t let up.

“I mean… Teasing… Pushing the boundaries to sort of get an energy going.”

He’s not sure what his face decides to land on, but whatever it is, Cas doesn’t like it. So Dean cocks his jaw, giving a sharp, challenging nod.

Okay.

Fine. Cas wants to play? Dean can play. He catches Cas’ eyes, slipping partly into that side of himself, bearing in mind they haven’t talked or explored it together. Not in any way that makes genuine play a good idea.

“You want energy, angel?”

He rises from the couch, allowing the corner of his mouth to tick up as his voice dips into something low and velvety, while he wanders over to Cas slowly. Tilting his head to the side, he teases his teeth with the tip of his tongue, before he licks his lips, forcefully drawing Cas’ attention. Judging by the way Cas’ expression changes from challenging to shy, it’s working.

He didn’t expect Dean to tag along.

Dean smiles, tracing his thumb over his lower lip. “I have a sinking suspicion what you’ve been reading.”

Cas’ lips mouth the word ‘fuck’, but no sound makes it out, as Dean crowds his space. He plants both hands on Cas’ abdomen, feeling the muscles underneath his palms twitch as his breath hitches audibly. His skin is warm with a hint of sweat, when Dean slips his hands under the fabric.

Dean lets his gaze heat up, tracking it up and down Cas’ body, as if he’s applying warm oil with his hands. Flashing Cas a quick, suggestive smile through parted lips, he lets the seconds tick by on a slowing metronome, willing the air between them to charge. Cas’ eyes are brimming with curiosity, watching Dean. Waiting.

With a sudden jolt of energy, he grips Cas by the waist, walking him backwards. A startled sound makes it past Cas’ lips, but his voice sounds hoarse, as if he’s been breathing too hard. Cas’ hands close over Dean’s, but he moves along willingly. Surprised at how pliant Cas is under his touch, Dean takes the space given and pushes him against the wall. He avoids using his boots to shove Cas’ feet apart, instead applying pressure with his knee, until he has the space to press their groins together. What little edge he has on Cas in terms of height, he uses to his advantage as he rises up, their noses inches apart and he keeps Cas pinned under his gaze.

“You see, angel,” he drawls, nose tracing Cas’ jawline without touching him. “You’re right… It is about lighting the embers. Charging the air in the room with the right kind of energy.”

Cas’ breath hiccups and he bares his neck, eyes flying up to the ceiling. Dean breathes out hot against his skin, as he looks at him sideways, reading every subtle ripple of emotion that goes over his face.

“That’s what you read… Pushing the boundaries, right?”

Cas’ lips curl into a tentative, hopeful smile, his eyes flicking to Dean’s face rapidly, drinking him in. He swallows hard as he nods, licking his lips, and fuck, his hands close around Dean’s wrists. Not to push him off, which is what Dean half expects, but to hold him tight. To hold him within Cas’ space. He becomes aware of how tight-wound his own body is. For a moment, Dean doubts. It’s been long and this is his Cas. He can’t afford to freak him out or chase him away.

Lose him.

Narrowing his eyes, he tries to read him and find any sign of discomfort. Cas is sweating, perspiration shining all over his skin, but he was doing yoga with a twist a mere few minutes ago. Taunting Dean. The pulse in his neck is fast and tempting, making Dean want to lick up the vein to Cas’ ear. No surprise either. His pupils though… are blown wide and eager desire rushes up Dean’s spine. Fear and arousal can mingle, but there isn’t a hint of the former in Cas. So yeah, he’s into this, Dean thinks, as he shoots a prayer of gratitude to whichever pantheon is responsible for this miracle.

He leans in to let his breath ghost over Cas’ lips, grinning wickedly.

“Thing is, angel, if you push the boundaries or cross them, there are consequences…”

Cas whimpers and surges forward, trying to kiss him, but Dean retreats, with effort, because he wants nothing more than to let Cas kiss him. An angry sound follows hot on the heels of that little tease, and Cas chases him. Dean puts a palm on his chest, pushing him back against the wall, and feels how wildly Cas’ heart is beating.

“But you gotta know the boundaries before you start playing,” he grins.

Cas stares down at his hand, brow furrowed, then back at his face. Dean is trying very hard not to look down, but it’s hard to ignore both their hard-ons, and in Cas’ case, those shorts don’t leave much to the imagination. Not that he needs imagination… Shit, his mind wants to go on a tangent.

“Then I wanna know,” Cas breaks the silence.

If this isn’t all kinds of dreams come true, his eagerness.

“I’m sure.” He slides fingers behind the waistband of Cas’ sinfully tight shorts and pops the button. “How about we shower first?”

Cas leans in, whispering to the shell of his ear. “Only if you promise to stop making me do all the work.”

That gets a genuine response out of him and he returns to his genuine, complete self, searching Cas’ face. “Excuse me?”

“Ever since you found out about Lucifer, your deer in headlights tendencies are back. And I like this energy right here, hotshot. A lot.”

“Which ener… Oh.”

Cas slowly arches his eyebrow. “Exactly. And to be honest…”

He can feel the quickened pace of Cas’ heart, the warm strength of him pressed against the wall. The limited braining skills he has left at his disposal are hooked on whatever Cas wants to say. He’s watching his lips, unsure what he’s expecting or waiting for. Cas’ muscles tremble as he inches in, tongue flicking out. Those lips aren’t moving, except one corner that quirks up.

His hips are.

“Fuck it,” Dean growls. “You don’t like the shower anyway.”

Cas laughs, a heady, delightful sound Dean would love to get lost in, but it cuts off the second Dean claims his mouth, entwining their tongues. He groans deeply, rucking Cas’ top up, his hands skimming over his ribs and chest. Cas responds beautifully, breaking their kiss and wiggling out of it eagerly, before he starts tugging at Dean’s sweats.

“Dean, yes… God, yes, finally.”

The desperately uttered last word ignites Dean. Maybe it’s even his ego, irked at the thought that he somehow kept Cas wanting. In need. A lovely concept at the same time, when Cas’ surrenders to his touch and pulls Dean into a greedy, deep kiss, steering Dean’s hands to his chest without hesitation.

Mildly bossy then. Why does that even surprise him?

Dean doesn’t fully give him what he wants, drawing lazy circles on Cas’ chest, teasing his nipples, before tracking his fingers down his ribs. He grins when Cas lets out a shaky, desperate whine, rolling his head back against the wall. Dean’s dick twitches at the sight, straining against his sweats, a pre-come stain already forming.

Dean undoes Cas’ zipper, skimming his fingers in, but just enough to free Cas’ dick. Cas’ hips chase the touch, as Dean traces them to the back, fighting the tight shorts to cup Cas’ ass. He follows the curve of his ass cheeks, peeling the negligible piece of fabric off. Cas shimmies his hips until it falls and kicks it away immediately. Dean’s mouth waters when he looks down at Cas’ hard length. Maybe dropping to his knees isn’t such a bad idea. Different energy, he reminds himself.

So he drags his gaze back up, until he can rest it on Cas’ face. Cas’ brow furrows adorably when he becomes aware that Dean isn’t doing… anything. He tugs at Dean’s wrists, but he doesn’t give an inch. The blazing look he shoots Dean… Oh, he’ll live for that. He’ll do anything to keep Cas on that edge for a good while.

A dark pulse courses through him.

Dean lets loose something primal, as he backs off, using his full coiled strength. Slowly he twists his wrists out of Cas’ hands and grabs hold of his, bringing them together against the wall above his head. With smooth ease, he pins Cas’ hips to the wall with the other, effectively spreading him out under his gaze like a five course meal.

Pleased, he flicks his tongue over his teeth, smirking lightly, when Cas seems to catch on.

“Holy fuck,” Cas whispers, eyes widening.

With effort, Dean holds still, instead of dipping in to lick the sweat that’s trickling down Cas’ neck to his collarbone or suck a nipple into his mouth. Just a few intense heartbeats to fully let it sink in with Cas. And he checks in with him. Of course he does.

Cas’ wide-eyed surprise shifts when he notices and he juts his chin out, licking his lips. “Come on then. Taste me.”

“Fucking hell, Cas,” Dean exhales, voice hoarse. “Where have you been hiding this?”

“Nowhere. I don’t know. It’s you,” Cas says hotly. “It’s you. Dean, please…”

Dean cocks his head, inching in slowly, increasing the pressure on the two points of contact he has: his wrists and hip. Cas whimpers when he comes to halt, their lips an inch apart. Hot breaths puff out, hitting Dean in the face, and the scent of him does him in.

He licks into Cas’ mouth, once. Twice. Lips parting, Cas moans and opens up, so Dean slips his tongue in, quick and dirty, kissing him like he hasn’t done yet so far. The sounds are muffled, making them more intense, as Cas struggles against being pinned down. Dean relishes the feel of it.

When Dean breaks the kiss, he’s breathing hard. He growls lowly, hotly aware of the lube nowhere near them, so he sucks Cas’ lower lip into his mouth, rolling it between his teeth. He bites down until Cas whimpers.

He presses their foreheads together. “Do. Not. Move.”

Cas’ eyes flutter open, heavy-lidded and darkened with desire. “Mmh?”

“Not an inch, Cas. Or you’re gonna be waiting a helluva lot longer than you’d like. Got it?”

Cas’ eyes sparkle briefly and Dean’s sure he considers taunting him further, but after a few heartbeats, where Dean raises his eyebrows meaningfully, Cas swallows hard and nods once.

Dean lets go, palming at his cock once, and moves swiftly, feeling Cas’ eyes on him. He doesn’t look back to check, intent on showing him trust. His thoughts briefly side-track to _‘fucking communication, Winchester’,_ but it’s elusive and pointless at this stage. He yanks open the drawer and grabs the lube, not bothering to close it again.

Cas’ smile is soft and wanton, as he watches Dean close in and lo’ and behold, he didn’t move. Dean kisses him as soon as he’s within reach, aware that Cas isn't moving his arms yet. His blood starts singing through his veins and he’s ridiculously warm, almost shaking out of his skin with the need to sink into Cas, who is so beautifully toeing the line Dean drew.

“Dean,” Cas sighs into the kiss. “I want you. Give…”

Dean smiles so wide, he breaks the kiss, something tense unwinding inside, as he uncaps the bottle, squirts some in his hand and, closing it, tucks it in his pants.

“I’ve got you, angel,” he purrs, warming the lube up.

The slow gestures draw Cas' attention, his face starting to betray impatience. While Dean takes his time, Cas lets out a soft, frustrated protest, writhing slightly.

“What, angel?”

Cas is nearly pouting. “Your sweats.”

“Oh,” Dean says, looking down, as if surprised. “They in your way?”

“Very,” Cas glowers.

Dean grins crookedly, as he slides his lubed up hand between Cas’ legs, trailing his perineum. He looks up at Cas' hands, giving a small nod. “By all means, get them off me.”

Cas moans softly, grabbing hold of Dean by the shoulders, and for a moment Dean thinks that’s it. But Cas pulls him in, his hand sliding further down, and sure, like that’s going to help Cas focus. He grins, circling his hole and teasingly pressing down on it. Cas shivers, one small sound after another falling from him into Dean’s mouth. He catches each one with a kiss or a nip or a lick, becoming aware of Cas’ roaming hands.

Upside of sweats: they cooperate. Dean chuckles when he hears Cas’ relieved moan, as they pool around his ankles. He steps out of them, hips stuttering when Cas slides cool fingers over his cock, thumb teasing the slit. He gives Dean a few, quick strokes, pulling at his hips with one hand, a leg coming up guide him.

“Fuck, Dean, come on…”

Tensing his muscles, he resists the request and moves out of reach, Cas' needy protest louder. Quickly he kisses Cas’ pottymouth into silence, sliding his finger in at the same time.

"I've got you, angel."

The muffled, almost sobbed ‘yes’ tells him enough about Cas’ impatience, but he takes his time working him open just because he can. His dick pulses against Cas’ thigh, and he’s slowly falling apart on the inside, every time Cas fucks down on his fingers, keening a little louder, pleading for more. His hair is a mess, his chest and cheeks flushed beautifully pink, and he trembles gloriously, pressed against the wall.

Blue eyes snap open on a hoarse cry, when Dean hits his prostate.

“God-fucking… Dean! Do you want me to beg?”

The fervor is heartfelt and echoes his own impatience.

“Maybe? Not sure. You’re beautiful like this,” he admits, licking up the vulnerable column of Cas’ throat.

“Beautiful? I’m sure,” Cas whimpers, tugging at Dean’s hair harshly. “Dean Winchester, you better get to fucking me into this wall or I’m going to handle this myself.”

He chuckles, kissing a trail down Cas’ chest to make his way towards the lube. “That would be a sight. Tempting..."

Cas stares at him in horror, as if Dean even could resist right now. So he laughs softly against Cas' bellybutton.

"I’d say I’m sorry, but… just a little longer.."

Exhaling hotly over Cas’ cock, he shoulders between his knees and presses a kiss to the leaking tip. There’s something about Cas that has him in a permanent greedy mindset. Immediately he sucks him into his mouth, because how can he fucking not. Cas mewls deeply, going weak in the knees, so Dean sets his strength to work, supporting him with one arm.

With his free hand, he handles the lube and slicks himself up, the wet sound cutting through Cas’ whimpers. Hollowing his cheeks, he looks up the plains of Cas’ abdomen and chest to find blazing blue eyes on his face.

“Oh, ahhhhn, hotshot, sweetheart, please, so pretty like that,” he rambles, visibly distracted.

Dean crinkles a knowing smile at him, but his dick is starting to get painfully hard and he knows Cas is more than ready. The hard tug at his hair has him popping his lips off Cas and surging up in a quick, fluid move.

“Work with me, angel,” he says urgently.

Cas lets his legs fall as wide as they can like this, angling his hips. When Dean grips hard under his buttocks, Cas hops up as he lifts, thighs wrapping tightly around Dean’s waist. His arms come up around Dean’s shoulders and his face is nothing but greedy, borderline desperate expectancy. Dean doesn’t waste time, well beyond teasing, and positions himself at Cas’ entrance.

Breath coming fast, Cas smirks, a relieved moan knocked out of him, as Dean pulls him down by the hips, sheathing himself deep inside in one burning go. He thrusts a few times, getting used to the weight of Cas, but soon he’s hiking Cas’ legs up higher and doing as Cas so kindly requested.

He fucks him into the wall. Cas holds onto him anywhere he can. His hand buried in Dean’s hair, he’s pulling the right side of painful, nosing at Dean’s cheek until he tilts his head and they’re kissing. Dean surrenders to deep, filthy, quick thrusts, mind lighting up at how trustingly Cas lets him.

A tremble wracks through him, as Cas buries his face in his neck. Dean sucks down hard on that soft spot near his ear, nailing Cas' sweet spot harder and faster. Cas’ voice gives out, his body trembling with impending orgasm and he barely hears his name keened out as Cas comes, his warm semen swept up between their moving bodies. Stars pop against Dean’s closed eyelids and he stands up on his curling tiptoes, a guttural shout pulled from him when he follows Cas over the edge, inhaling nothing but their pure combined scent.

It takes more than a few minutes to come back down, his body trembling violently. He registers Cas’ hands carding through his hair, caressing his neck, before he cups Dean’s face and steals a sweaty kiss.

“Fuck me,” Cas pants. “This is as bad as the shower.”

“Less slipping,” Dean grins through rough breaths. “More muck.”

Fuck, the angle is awkward and impractical. He can only imagine how Cas' back is faring, as he adjusts himself to get a better grip on Cas and take some of the tension off his legs. Cas mewls softly, tugging at him to stay close.

They are lost in each other’s eyes for a while and it’s difficult to ignore Cas’ expression shifting from smug to sated to smug to adoring. He grins wider when he sees something in Dean’s face, and he isn’t sure what he’s laying bare, but he’s beginning to understand where Cas has been digging.

Dean juts his chin out, nipping at Cas’ lips. “Brat,” he whispers.

Cas’ eyes light up like Christmas. Bull’s eye.

Dean chuckles, shaking his head and readjusts his shaking arms. “Your back alright?”

“Hotshot, I am goo,” Cas laughs. “This was long overdue. Promise me you’ll stay out of your head.”

Overly sensitive, Dean shivers when Cas noses into his neck. “That’s a bit difficult.”

“You know what I mean. I don’t need both of us hung up on a past that’s irrelevant.” When Dean narrows his eyes at him, Cas rolls his eyes. “Irrelevant in the sense that I’m not a goddamn broken bird you need to be careful with. This loosened me up more than a week’s worth of yoga.”

He barks a laugh. “Good to know.”

“You’re my anchor, Dean. In the here and now. You always have been.”

Dean exhales long and slow, the high of his orgasm now heightened into the stratosphere, to the moon even, at Cas’ loving words. “I just want to avoid setting you off in any way.”

“We’ll deal with that if it ever happens. I trust you.”

Dean’s quick to reassure Cas, because he senses where he went wrong. “And I trust you. To know your own limits.”

Smiling sweetly, Cas’ face softens, surprise swirling in his eyes. “Ahh, there it is. That’s what I needed.”

“Just that?”

Cas looks at him pensively. "I don't know..." He shoots Dean a shy look through his dark lashes, his thumb teasing the back of Dean's neck. "Make me a list?"

"You _have_ been reading up," Dean says, his gentle tone eliciting a sweet smile.

It's strange, Dean muses... Almost as if Cas expects him to rebuke him for being curious. He decides to put his money where his mouth is and hold the space. To trust Cas. Mainly because this isn't an arrangement at the club. It is so much more.

"Alright, Cas. I'll happily make you a list. Anything specific in mind?"

He shakes his head. "Curious about what you're into, but... Do we need to use those long-ass ones?"

Dean laughs. "Do you want to use those?"

Cas shrugs mildly. "Lots of stuff on there that's foreign to me. Lots of hard noes."

"So perhaps a bit overwhelming?" he asks.

"Perhaps."

"Okay," Dean nods. "Then let's do this our way. Wanna draw me up a list of three things you're curious about?"

He shoots Cas a roguish smile. "I'm sure we can take it from there."

Flustering beautifully, even though he instigated it, Cas kisses him to duck out from under the scrutiny. “Hush. Get me off this wall. It sticks.”

“That’s you.”

“And whose doing is that?”

“You’re welcome.”

Dean yanks at Cas’ legs, feeling his dick slip out. Just as well. Cas is quick on the uptake, wrapping his arms around Dean, working with him so he can push them both off the wall. His muscles tremble and it takes a minute for Dean to find his way around the bulk and weight of holding Cas in his arms.

“Showoff.”

Dean grins up at him. “You’re making it easy on me. I’ll go work on my bike in a bit. See how long that lasts.”

“Did you say the tent was up?”

"Shower first."


	30. April 16th 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blinking away the sting in his eyes, he turns a few pages, slightly startled when a folded piece of paper falls out.
> 
> “Did I just break it?” he mutters.
> 
> He checks the booklet spine, which seems okay. Cas remains almost unnaturally quiet. Dean smiles. Did Cas write a poem or… His attention skips back to the day before. Slowly he puts down the booklet, picking up the little surprise, and unfolds it. In Cas’ neat, elegant handwriting, he finds a List of Three, as Cas dubbed it, and suddenly, his own list feels like it is burning in the pocket of his slacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My perfectionist is in full swing for the follow-up to this. I need to stuff a sock in its face and make it take a seat, but who am I kidding?
> 
> Anyhoo, the boys are gettin' there. The actual, detailed convo will be off-screen, if you'll forgive and trust me. The chapter will be long enough without all that. Not the focus for this tale.
> 
> My poor brain though. Such the fussing at myself.  
> I hope you are keeping sufficiently entertained, my loves. Stay safe and weird.  
> Hugs,  
> Mal

Cas runs his fingers through Dean’s hair, his thumbs tracing the shells of his ears to the lobes. Dean hums in appreciation when he massages them, his slender fingers trailing down his neck, before strong hands close on his trapezius muscle. The solid form of Cas leans against the back of the chair and he rests his chin on Dean’s head.

“I haven’t seen you behind a laptop in a while.”

“Well, I had an idea,” Dean says. “This crisis has caused a lotta people to fall without a job, but at the same time, there’s a ban on travel, a lot of people have fallen ill, so other jobs aren’t being filled. There’s a slew of temporary vacant jobs.”

“You want to apply for one of those…”

Dean clicks his tongue and makes gun fingers up at Cas, which doesn’t have the same effect as usual, judging by the fond eye roll he gets.

“How do you know which people need help?”

“Well, in an unusual fit of efficiency, the government lined them up. All I have to do is search with the COVID19 tag.”

“Bit morbid.”

“A touch. But look,” Dean says, smiling. “Over 400 jobs.”

Cas pulls up a chair, flush to his, and all but sits in his lap. “Anything good?”

“A bunch of shit I’m not qualified for. But some places need mechanics. A few even need cooks. Here.”

They scroll through three job openings: one mechanic at a car shop not too far away, one cook and one delivery service cook.

“The mechanic pays better,” Cas says, pointing.

“It does. Might also be a safer bet, all things considered, keeping the social distancing in mind. I’m gonna go through these and apply for a few.”

“Okay. Tell me if you need help?”

“Hmm, I will, but I think I got this.”

“Because focus,” Cas smiles.

“I think so? I’ve been trying to figure out why I’ve been so restless.”

Cas peeks at him sideways, nose twitching in curiosity, and he leans in, resting his chin on Dean’s shoulder. “Your conclusion?”

“I’ve been annoyed at my life being partly on hold.” He can’t stop from grinning, because other parts have been anything but on hold, and catches the twinkle in Cas’ eyes.

“Partly?”

He turns his head and kisses Cas. One of those slow, closed-mouthed kisses, where he can breathe him in. 

“You know damn well.”

Cas hums happily. Dean bites his lower lip around a wide smile, trying to get back on track.

“The pause button is pushed on the restaurant and my regular way of life, and I have no fucking clue when it’ll be unpaused. But perhaps this,” he draws a circle in the air with his finger, “is part of a new normal. Or it might become part of it.”

“Which means you want to adapt,” Cas says.

Dean lets out a cynical snort. “John got a few things right.”

“There’s a difference between what he did and what you’re doing, namely adapting to a new reality. Adam was right.”

“Adam..? Oh, the pragmatist.” He shrugs. “Potentially.”

Cas suddenly hugs him from the side, which he sort of has to undergo, before he can wiggle his arm out from between them. On instinct, he realizes he is finding only his second, maybe third kiss of the day and he makes up for that disturbingly low number by pulling Cas into his lap.

Cas laughs into his mouth. “Fo-cus, hotshot.”

“I am,” he says between kisses. “Very focused.”

A string of half-hearted protests follows, as Cas wriggles out of his lap, pulling away from him. “I was working.”

“Was?”

Dean grabs for Cas’ hand, hooking their fingers together. Maybe he has more flair for the dramatic than he thought.

“Am,” Cas splutters on a sweet laugh, squirming out of reach. “Am working. So are you. Do the thing. And I was going to water Jack. Boy needs food to grow.”

Dean chuckles, turning back to the screen. This can tie him over, if he can pull this off. And he knows cars and food.

*

“It almost feels like holidays,” Cas mutters.

“Hmm, yes,” Dean says. “Because most people spend their time throwing knives in the garden. You’re a right menace, by the way.”

“Must run in the family then.”

Cas looks all too smug as he gets on the mattress, Dean’s side lifting with the added weight, until Cas settles down next to him. The mattress is on the grass in front of the tent. Dean lit two citronella candles on either side to keep the worst of the bugs at bay, but they also applied bug repellant. It’s too warm to be under the sheets and they aren’t here to stare at the inside of the tent canvas.

Above them is a near endless blanket of star-dappled darkness. As he gets cozy, Cas looks more relaxed than he’s seen him in a while, though that may as well be Dean himself. Since yesterday, something shifted. Subtle, but tangible, and it has them feeding off each other. It’s like rereading a poem and suddenly being pulled between the lines, deeper into its velvety, night-quiet crevices.

Cas scoots closer and a gentle weight lands on Dean’s chest. Glancing down, he finds the poetry booklet he got Cas at the start of the quarantine. He smiles, when Cas sidles up to him, throwing one leg over his, shoving himself bodily into Dean’s space like Claire’s prone to. Without any regard for anything but where he wants to be.

Good thing it coincides with where Dean wants him.

He accommodates the squirmy mass that is his boyfriend, until his left arm is under Cas’ neck and comes around, so Dean can actually hold the booklet to leaf through it. Cas’ chest expands, pressing into his ribs pleasantly, and the warmth of a long, deep sigh hits his collarbone and chest, when he finally settles in.

“You’re such a cat,” he mumbles to the top of his head. “You even smell like the sun.”

The sound Cas makes may as well be the first word of a poem in its intent. He wants to hear more, but instead flicks the booklet open randomly and starts reading, when one catches his eye.

 _You would have to know where to look_ _  
_ _how his presence affects the world_ _  
_ _around and within you_

 _To stand at the edge of the unknown_ _  
_ _the melody of the earth_ _  
_ _in my every quivering breath_

 _To see the meteor showers overhead_ _  
_ _falling from a sky so vast_ _  
_ _it swallows us whole_

 _To feel the spray of the universe_ _  
_ _cooling on his skin, my fingers_ _  
_ _tracing through the droplets_

 _To hear the stunning wave of endless songs_   
_breathtakingly beautiful, shared_ _  
with each other and beyond_

Cas squirms and a slight shiver runs down his spine. Intuitively, Dean squeezes him closer.

“I miss our people,” Cas whispers.

His stomach flips over, because instantly he recognizes the sentiment. It’s been itching under his skin for a while, that restlessness, that grumpiness. Not at anything in particular and certainly not at Cas, but it’s just there, when he stares out the window or past the open front gate.

“Who’d have thunk it, huh?”

“Mmwhat?”

“You and me missing people.”

“I miss _our_ people. Our pack,” Cas says. The word has Dean’s heart almost vibrating out of his chest with joy. “People in general a lot less so, especially when I see what some of them are getting up to in the news.”

“It ain’t all bad,” Dean says. “But I get it. I wanna see Sam again and hug him, ruffling his hair. Lift your brother off his feet, just to hear him protest. Adam’s dying to introduce Michael and I know we’re all going to get along. We need to go get granny for the barbecue...”

Hell, his thoughts even skip to his father, but Dean keeps that to himself. Cas holds onto him just a bit tighter. They remain silent, each caught in the daydreams perhaps, and Dean closes his eyes, listening to how Cas speaks to him in the way he melts into Dean, the strain of missing their own adding a bittersweet melancholy to his inner workings. 

Blinking away the sting in his eyes, he turns a few pages, slightly startled when a folded piece of paper falls out.

“Did I just break it?” he mutters.

He checks the booklet spine, which seems okay. Cas remains almost unnaturally quiet. Dean smiles. Did Cas write a poem or… His attention skips back to the day before. Slowly he puts down the booklet, picking up the little surprise, and unfolds it. In Cas’ neat, elegant handwriting, he finds a List of Three, as Cas dubbed it, and suddenly, his own list feels like it is burning in the pocket of his slacks.

The words blur in front of his eyes, a delicious swirl of hope suddenly frolicking freely, bouncing around in his ribcage like an excited puppy. When he refocuses, he clears his throat gently, reading them aloud. His voice is thick, but not as loud as his heart.

“Shibari. Rimming. Breath play.”

Cas presses closer to his side with each one, hard enough for his heartbeat to become tangible against Dean’s ribs. Smiling, he nuzzles into Cas’ hair, nudging until there’s a soft merp sound and he angles his head, so they’re face to face. He takes in Cas. Clearly blushing, his expression is open and trusting, at once so familiar and so utterly out of this world, Dean can’t quite wrap his head around his luck.

And Cas’ complete lack of pacing.

“What?” Cas asks. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He wonders if it’s his breathing that gave him away, because surely Cas can’t have read that off his face. Perhaps living in such close quarters simply makes it nigh impossible to keep much to himself anymore.

“Ask me, Dean. I think I know where your mind is going.”

Bemused, Dean slides his fingers up the soft column of Cas’ throat, forcing Cas to fully face him. He is caught in the dancing light of the flames, hiding parts of him in shadows. Unreadable. Dean wants him bathing in sunlight, so he can take in every subtle emotion that’s playing across Cas’ features. Cas’ Adam’s apple bobs under his touch, when he trails his fingers back down and across his collarbone.

So vulnerable.

Dean remembers walking into Cas’ room in the hospital. Inflicted wounds on someone are only pretty when they were agreed on beforehand. He can still see the large, angry hand-shaped bruises on Cas’ throat. Frowning, he lets his eyes fall to Cas’ throat and leans in, placing one kiss, the hitched breath under his lips enough to lose part of himself to Cas. Another part, he supposes. Perhaps they’re rearranging themselves around each other.

Dean has half a mind to dodge the obvious, sensitive issue, when he realizes… The shadows belong there. They’re part of Cas. Of them both, if he’s honest. He needs to know them as much as the light to understand.

So he foregoes some diplomacy in favor of blunt honesty.

“Is breath play part of an attempt to reclaim what Lucifer took from you?”

He’s relieved to see Cas’ eyes widen in genuine surprise, a pang of fear flashing in his eyes. It’s short-lived, true to form. Chewing his thumb, Cas takes his time, brow furrowing and he stays close to Dean, allowing him the chance to read Cas, should he want to.

“I hadn’t thought of that, I think. All bruises are the same after a while, so whether it was the one on my throat or the ones near my ribs…” Cas shrugs, but there’s something about those words that irks Dean. He can’t put his finger on it. “I like the idea of giving you that control, because I trust you. And I’m curious.”

“Okay,” Dean nods. “I’ve done it before, but it’s not one of my preferences.”

There’s a hint of jealousy in Cas’ eyes that surprisingly charms Dean. “Is that a no, hotshot?”

He smiles, tongue flicking out to lick his lips. “Not a no at all, angel, but I’m not sure I’m entirely comfortable doing that at the moment.”

“That’s how it works, right? Give and take.”

“It does,” Dean nods. “Speaking of…” 

Cas’ eyes go cross-eyed, when he holds his own list up between them. “Here’s mine.”

The speed with which Cas grabs it has Dean chuckling, only mildly lamenting the abandoned tingly trail he leaves on his chest. A tiny bit of space is opened between them as Cas holds the paper close to his face. His voice floats up from it, a little breathy, the air getting heavier.

“Edging. Bondage. Impact play.”

When he hears the last two words fall from Cas’ lips, he figures out what bothers him about what Cas just said and it’s out before he can think twice. “Not all bruises are the same, by the way.”

“How do you mean?” Cas’ eyes immediately flick back to the paper between his fingers. “Oh… Impact play?”

Dean purses his lips and waits for the moment he is asked to explain it or Cas’ penny drops. It turns out to be the latter, which really shouldn’t surprise him, because Cas always did his homework. His lips form a cute little ‘o’, as he frowns, and Dean almost kisses him, when the words land.

“Oh, the hitting.”

Dean winces lightly. It was a gamble to add that one. Truthful to his kinks, but a gamble nonetheless. “Uhh, yes,” he says, voice breaking lightly.

His heartbeat becomes tangible through his body, as he leans in, trying to catch as much of Cas’ reaction as he can. Most he sees is deep introspection, as Cas turns inwards, processing it. Perhaps imagining it. Dean’s insides are churning.

“Did you add this on purpose?” Cas’ voice is tight, his tone borderline testy, which Dean didn’t expect.

“How do you mean?”

“You know it can’t work, so you put it there…?”

“Hold up,” he says quickly. “I genuinely enjoy that. Both ways, by the way. So no, I didn’t add it to… what, test you? You said you want to know. This is part of it.”

Cas nods, teeth digging into his lower lip until it looks painful.

“Cas,” Dean says. 

He trails his thumb over the sensitive skin, worried he pushed Cas somewhere he can’t return from. Stormy blue eyes snap up to his face. Cas softens the moment their eyes meet.

“I’m listening. Go on, please?”

Dean lets out a sigh of relief, the tension in his muscles easing up again.

“These little lists are just the start. There are going to be things that I’m into and you’re not, and vice versa. There might be things you’re curious about, but not ready for. You might never be and that’s okay. Boundaries are essential.”

“But they don’t need to be set in stone, yes?”

“Not necessarily. Some are hard limits. You need to respect those, if you feel them, Cas.”

One dark eyebrow rises in a challenge. “What’s one of yours?”

“Rape play,” he says without hesitation. “And I have exactly zero interest in being chained up. I also don't want anything done to me that might leave permanent marks."

“Okay,” Cas says, eyes wide. “I came across some of that.”

Dean sneaks one hand under Cas’ shirt, in search of his warmth and something else, something softer and reassuring. His heart warms, when Cas inches into it, a soft moan of pleasure elicited before he refocuses.

“So clearly it’s fine when we both agree on something we don’t like. But if you like something, why can’t I try it by default?”

Dean clicks his tongue, deciding to push the matter. “It’s not that you can’t try it. But you gotta think it through. Would you be okay being hit? Say with a belt or a paddle. You wouldn’t flinch or risk reliving moments?”

At the mention of the belt and paddle, Cas flusters. “Maybe it depends on where you hit me. Or how.”

“Potentially. Think it through.”

Cas trembles in his arms and for the umpteenth time in his life, Dean witnesses the strength in him at work, when Cas doesn’t look away. His jaw sets in that sweetly stubborn way, as his eyes dart over Dean’s face, mentally keeling over the edge into the deep end. Dean grips him tighter to anchor him, waiting it out.

“Yes… Maybe... That seems like it might be possible,” Cas admits, sounding sincerely grumpy.

Dean’s face relaxes as he lets out a shaky laugh. “Cas, for fuck’s sake, that’s okay. Why are you annoyed?”

“Because I don’t like the idea of that jackass’ behavior potentially denying us pleasure.”

“You’re utterly fearless, you know that?”

Cas looks at him nonplussed and Dean laughs softly.

“With that attitude, I’m sure we’ll find our way through. Boundaries, angel. You have to know them and draw the line.”

Pensively Cas nods. “Because we can always adjust it later.”

“Exactly,” Dean says with a sigh. Hell, Cas is quick. “I’ve got to start believing what my Mom used to say.”

Cas blinks at him, almost like Claire giving mute kisses, and he smiles, biting his lip. His mom and Cas never met and Dean realizes he hasn’t told anyone this before.

“Whenever she put me to bed, she said I have an angel watching over me.”

His grin is more brazen than he feels, because that dull ache he gets when talking about her never fully leaves him. Some losses are forever. Strong arms snake around his neck and suddenly Cas is on top of him, the mattress dipping sideways under their combined weight.

“I’m here,” Cas says, the stars behind him. “Always.”

Two warm hands slip under Dean’s shirt and come to rest over his heart, as Cas sinks his weight down, his legs extending to entangle with Dean’s.

“I know, angel,” he whispers, willing reassurance in his voice. “I’m okay.”

There’s a brief moment where Cas studies him and Dean holds his eyes, letting him in. He doesn’t hide the ache, but it’s just that. Eventually Cas tilts his head, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he nips at Dean’s lips.

“An angel… Because of that list? God must surely be weeping.”

“Have you read the Bible?” A deep chuckle escapes him, with a generous hint of sleaze as he slides his hands under Cas’ long-sleeved shirt. “Also not quite what my Mom meant, I’m sure, and not what I mean either, as you well know.”

Warm fingers trace lazy circles over his chest. “So what do you think?”

Dean purses his lips, delighting when Cas leans in instinctively, hunger apparent as he tries to stare the answer out of him.

He grins wickedly. “I’m more than good with the other two items on your list.”

Cas’ eyes sparkle in the dark, temptingly greedy in the way he drinks in Dean. “How soon?”

“Fuck me sideways, angel. Patience is a virtue,” Dean groans, his dick twitching.

“Virtue has nothing to do with any of this, hotshot,” Cas grins, wiggling on top of him. “Don’t make me tickle you into surrender.”

Dean snorts gently. “I don’t need convincing, trust me. Tomorrow. I gotta check some of my stuff and we need to go over the best practices...”

“I read up on those.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell,” Dean grins. “We’ll still need to talk. Set a safe signal and word.”

“Impala.”

His brain whites out momentarily, though Cas’ face becomes all the more pronounced above him.

“Cas,” he says softly. “You’re…”

He’s cut off mid-sentence with a kiss, something wet and grateful and tangibly all over the place as Cas’ hands track to his flanks, fingertips digging in. Dean groans, angling his head so he has full access to suck down on Cas' tongue, an intense heat spiking through him. Cas is breathing a touch harder when he breaks the kiss and smiling wide.

“We’ll talk, I promise. Just… Which one on your list?” Cas asks. “Wait, bondage and shibari sort of line up, yes?”

“Similar intent, but huge difference,” Dean smiles, tugging at Cas to keep kissing. “I’m glad you picked shibari.”

“It looks pretty,” Cas says, his cheeks warming up against Dean’s. “And… I dunno, intimate?”

Dean murrs softly, somewhat at a loss in the face of his Cas, surrendering so willingly to parts he’d never given much thought until somehow they found their way to each other. He’s happy either way, but to find themselves looking at the same horizon is almost too much to ask for.

“It is,” he hums. “You’ll see.”

Cas presses their foreheads together. “What was your last one?”

Dean cocks an eyebrow. “Edging, if you’re comfortable with that.”

Narrowing his eyes at Dean, Cas’ smile grows wider still, until he’s vying for first position of brightest celestial body in sight with the moon itself. 

“Yes. I want to be in your hands, Dean.”

When he leans closer, everything seems to slow down and Dean’s chest expands with all that’s said and implied and promised. He lets out a soft, broken sound when Cas’ lips graze his, like it’s the first time all over again. 

A mere few weeks ago, he was trying his utmost to give Cas space and now he finds Cas crowding his in the best possible way. Cas’ tongue dips into his mouth with such intent, it’s as if Cas pours his very essence down Dean’s throat, lighting him up from the inside.

They lose themselves in each other, making out, deep into the night, until they’re both sleep drunk and kissed into silky oblivion.


	31. April 17th 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A silvery, throaty voice cuts through the air. “What a cute, little set-up you have going here.”
> 
> Dean looks over his bike’s seat. From the corner of his eye, he sees Cas sit up in the same moment, as if jolted out of his sleep roughly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned: stalking, confrontation with abuser. Lucifer shows up. Do not worry: Dean and Cas have this covered.
> 
> Splitting the notes in two for this one. Warnings here, spoilers in the end notes.
> 
> Lots of love in both!

Dean straightens his back, the heels of his boots knocking against the crate he’s sitting on. Like many other things, he found it in Cas’ garage. His shirt is hanging loose around him, the wind catching under it on his bare skin, as he slides the last piece of Colt back in place. There’s a hint of sweat at the back of his neck, but nothing too bad, though he can tell his hair is standing on end. No product, because Cas tends to mess with his hair until it’s all gone. Why bother?

“You okay?” Cas asks.

He looks up from putting the last of the baby herb plants into the soil. They got them earlier today, because garden centers remain open, doing good business these days. Taking off his gloves, Cas wipes at his forehead with the back of his hand, still somehow leaving a dirt stain. Dean grins at him as he holds out Colt and the magazine slides in effortlessly clicking into place.

“Very.”

His skin tingles, when he notices Cas foregoing his work in favor of staring at Dean. Cas’ face shifts to blatant, bemused adoration, as he tilts forward on the balls of his feet, until his arm shoots out to balance him out. Dean winks at him, savoring the sweet laugh that earns him. Cas rises to his feet and starts clearing away the bag of soil and gardening tools.

Dean hits the slide release and the magazine falls into his waiting hand, under the smooth sound of metal gliding over metal. They needed a good clean, his weapons. Pleased to have them back in working order, he lays Colt down next to the sawed-off shotgun on the second crate.

He stands up to stretch his back, as he wipes his hands. His gaze tracks from his weapons to his bike, which is up next. Bending through his knees, he tugs his tool box closer. Like knives in the kitchen, he’s always made sure to get the right stuff.

The to-do list forms as easy as breathing: tyre pressure, chain tension, checking the battery, coolant, greasing and oil and filter change. All dependent on time and distractions.

On cue, the sound of water running draws his attention and he looks over his shoulder towards the house. Cas is washing his hands under the hose in the outside sink, bending over to splash some in his hair and onto his neck.

See… Distractions.

Cas is blissfully unaware of Dean ogling him, which makes it even sweeter. Blindly, he reaches for one of the towels they laid out on the window sill and dries off. Dean turns his attention back to the tyres, sitting with the warm honeyed feeling around his heart.

“Terrible,” he mumbles to himself.

Smoother still, when Cas returns from the house, kicks off his shoes and settles on the mattress outside the tent, eyes closed, limbs starfishing. He’s pretty sure Cas dozes off, while Dean tends to his bike. Perhaps it’s because he’s so caught up in an activity that’s second nature he doesn’t have to think about it, while sinking into the comfort of the moment that he doesn’t hear the footsteps coming closer, crunching on the gravel.

A silvery, throaty voice cuts through the air. “What a cute, little set-up you have going here.”

Dean looks over his bike’s seat. From the corner of his eye, he sees Cas sit up in the same moment, as if jolted out of his sleep roughly.

Lucifer.

Quickly, he glances towards Cas, who shoots him the subtlest sign gesture for Dean not to intervene. He’s already on his feet though, dragging Lucifer’s gaze to him. Dean cocks his head, scowling, but holds his tongue. Gritting his teeth, he takes the backseat, as Cas rises to his full length.

Studying Dean for a moment, as if gauging him, Lucifer chuckles and sneers as he looks back to Cas. He lifts his arms on either side, the tailored coat falling open. The way his eyes track over Cas’ body feels so uncomfortable, he can only imagine how it is for Cas.

“Cassie, sugar, don’t tell me you’re going to ignore me face to face as well?”

Dean makes a disgusted sound in the back of his throat at the nickname. Eyes blazing, Cas raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms, as he plants his feet wide. Built like a brick house, it’s still rare to see him slip into that physicality of himself, even to Dean.

“It’s Castiel, if anything to you. Leave, Lucifer.”

Lucifer laughs, entirely too at ease with himself and the situation. Dean only has memories of him always behaving as if he owns the place, wherever he is.

Wiping his index finger over his lips, Lucifer taps them twice, making a pensive face. It’s fake as fuck, like most everything about his civilized veneer.

“Hey, I read that story you wrote, Cassie, for that little publisher… that indie thing.”

“Do I need to spell my name? Yet you keep track,” Cas says, voice going deep and cold. “And?”

“I do believe… Not sure,” he tsks, eyeing Cas with a smile. “Something about it was so familiar. Almost like it was about us? Can you believe it?”

“Again… And?”

“So you’re not denying it is?”

Cas lets out a sordid, disbelieving laugh that has a desperate edge to it, as his eyes track to the heavens before landing heavily on Lucifer again. “Speak your damn mind.”

The cursing takes Lucifer aback, but he recovers fast, sly eyes going from Cas to Dean and back. Whatever he sees, whatever connection he makes, Dean can tell he doesn’t like it one bit. It’s in the way he hunches his shoulders suddenly and advances on Cas.

Not stepping in between them, not shielding Cas, takes a monumental effort on Dean’s part and he gasps at the surge of adrenaline that shoots through him. Instead he inches closer to his weapons.

“It’s about us, Castiel. Isn’t it?” Lucifer says, voice somehow threatening and tempting at once, as he points a finger at Cas. Bile rises in Dean’s throat. “And you’re making money off it. I want my share.”

Cas’ chin juts out, as he squares shoulders, which visibly annoys Lucifer further.

“Let me get this straight… You’ve been keeping track of me, even after I moved. You’re on our property without permission…”

“Your name was listed,” Lucifer interrupts. “Not his.”

He doesn’t even look at Dean, when he jerks his head towards him, but the toxic possessiveness is palpable.

Cas faces him, fearless, baring his teeth as his speaks. “ _Our_ property. And you’re here to… ask for your share in a story that you think vaguely resembles…”

“Us, yes,” Lucifer snaps. “Though it isn’t how I remember it.”

No, you wouldn’t, Dean thinks, casually leaning on his bike as he sinks through one leg and grabs his shotgun off the crate. He can smell Lucifer’s escalating energy in the air. It’s to Lucifer’s own detriment if he dismisses Dean the way he perhaps always has.

“Way I see it, there’s two options, right?” Cas says, lifting his hand, two fingers extended. His anger is tangible, beautiful really, though Dean is biased as fuck.

Lucifer balks slightly, narrowing his eyes at Cas, as if he’s not sure how to respond to this. Cas ticks off on his fingers, gesturing curtly, his face oozing more cold anger with every surprisingly calm word spoken.

“You’re either admitting you behaved like a complete, abusive, manipulative dickwad, which entitles you to jackshit. Or you’re denying you did any of it and, guess what, that still entitles to _exactly_ jackshit.”

His pupils are tiny, black pinpricks in an ocean of blue. “Either way, Lucifer, get the fuck off of our lawn.”

Lucifer gapes momentarily, but his body slips into this unpleasant, slick approach, hands reaching across the distance to Cas. “Come now, Castiel…”

Cas raises a hand, palm out. “Stop right there. And come now, _nothing_ . You have no business here. No right to be here. You have no power or say left. In case me ignoring that vile text of yours didn’t spell it out like a message in the godforsaken sky, you are out of my life. Now _leave.”_

The mask of civility slips, frustration and anger bleeding through rapidly. “You can’t just cut me out of your life. I was in it for three years. I did everything for you, when you couldn’t. I’m in your head whether you like it or not.”

Lucifer’s fast, but Dean’s faster. When Lucifer surges forward towards Cas, Dean lifts the shotgun and cocks it, the sound loud enough to jolt both Cas and Lucifer into looking at him. The shotgun tucked against his shoulder, finger on the trigger, Dean closes the distance between him and Cas. Eyes locked on Lucifer, he experiences a scary, hellish urge to pull the trigger. He relishes the genuine dread in Lucifer's eyes when he puts his hands up, but doesn’t back away.

“Whoa, bad boy, take it easy! I wasn’t doing anything!”

“You ain’t heard of social distancing, Luci?” Dean grins wickedly over the barrel.

“It’s Lucifer to you.”

Dean expects Cas to tell him to back off. All the mob vibe jokes aside, this is further than Dean’s ever taken it. Lucifer’s expecting something similar, if his condescending attitude is anything to go by, as he gestures at Dean from head to toe, while looking at Cas.

There’s a charged moment when Dean’s eyes meet Cas’, and he finds a heat in those sky-blues that’s entirely unbefitting of the situation. Cas crosses his arms and schools his features, coolly regarding Lucifer, then the gate. A disturbingly intense feeling of harmony washes over Dean and he can’t help but grin at Lucifer.

Disbelief is at war with disgust in Lucifer’s face when he sees the exchange. “Are you fucking kidding me, Castiel?” Lucifer snarls. “This mud monkey gets to point his gun at me?”

“Oh, man, I forgot why I disliked you so much,” Dean laughs. “Daddy’s little rich kid with zero skills and a mouth too big for his own good.”

Lucifer flips him off, recovering from his initial scare as he tugs at his coat to rearrange it. “Shove off, tough guy. You don’t scare me.”

Dean exhales harshly, trigger finger twitching. “He said his piece. Here’s mine. Get the hell away from Cas. Out the gate. Back to your life, far away from ours.”

Lucifer’s face contorts, juvenile in its taunting. “What’re you gonna do? Call the cops?”

“At this range, I’d worry more about the shotgun,” Cas says matter-of-factly.

“You wouldn’t…”

Dean meets Lucifer’s glare without even blinking, suddenly grateful for the fucked up training John put him through. Calling a bluff is half the battle. He wonders if he’s going to have to put his money where his mouth is, but it’s a brief ‘what if’ scenario, as he finally puts himself between Cas and Lucifer like a shield.

One step forward and the barrel’s aimed straight at Lucifer’s chest. “You tell me,” Dean says lowly. “Would I?”

_For Cas?_

Unspoken.

Blood rushes in his ears, tunnel vision narrowing down to protecting Cas at all cost. Like Sam. Like Adam. Dean clenches his jaw, fingers moving infinitesimally around the barrel, when Lucifer doesn’t budge and leans against it, baring his teeth. The tendons in his neck stand out, as Dean pushes back, nostrils flaring with every breath.

“Holy shit, you’re insane,” Lucifer says, sneering as he looks down on Dean.

Which is so ironic, Dean doesn’t even reply, because he feels the weight come off the barrel when Lucifer backs off. It’s a reluctant, angry gesture and Lucifer's hand comes up to almost slap at the barrel, but he reconsiders and rakes it through his hair.

The tension in the air sticks to Dean like oil. He takes a step forward for each one Lucifer takes backwards, his arms up. It’s a morbid dance, because he can’t tell if Lucifer’s going to do something stupid. He doesn’t want to think about how his life can change if he does. Behind him, he hears and senses Cas’ presence.

Once Lucifer is past the gate grid, Cas steps up next to Dean. A shiver runs through him when Cas’ warm hand finds purchase at his lower back, as he starts closing one part of the gate. Dean moves smoothly around him, keeping a lock on Lucifer, until the gate is closed and sealed. When Cas lingers near the gate, Dean releases the barrel and tugs Cas back by the waistband of his shorts. It works for two measly steps.

“Lucifer,” Cas says.

With effort, Lucifer’s hateful gaze is torn away from Dean, back to Cas, and for a moment, his face softens. They move in sync, when Cas reaches for Dean, fingers catching on his jeans, and Dean lowers the shotgun, so he can put his arm around Cas. Pain flashes across Lucifer’s features, as he lingers on the interaction. His hands vanish into his pockets and his shoulders slump forward.

“Go home, Lucifer. I’ll give you one thing. These aren’t easy times, but whatever you’re looking for isn’t here.”

“Easy for you to say.”

Cas shakes his head. “Go home. Call Kelly. Don’t do this again.”

He’ll never understand where Cas keeps digging up his empathy, but it’s perhaps the reason Lucifer’s demeanor shifts marginally. With a curt nod, he straightens up, throwing up his façade once more and walks off, as if nothing happened.

Dean waits until he’s in his car and driving off.

“Cas?”

“Yes?”

“Please tell me you didn’t fall for that ‘kicked puppy’ gig in the end.”

Cas lets out a cynical sound. “Fuck, no, I’ve seen it a hundred times. But there was no point needling that. Not my monkey.”

Dean nods, staring at the empty road beyond the now closed gate.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you have shot him?”

“Sure as the fucking dawn.”

Cas regards him seriously.

“In the leg, Cas,” Dean says, rolling his eyes. “Shoulder maybe, though bad idea at that range.”

“Leg too, I imagine. Why didn’t you take the Colt?”

One leg is jittery, as Dean shrugs, trying to rid himself of majorly nasty energies. “I have a thing for the shotgun.”

Cas leans away to stare down at the weapon, looking adorably confused. “So do I now, I think…”

Dean barks a loud laugh, the tension around his spine snapping like a thousand rubber bands, as his arm comes up around Cas’ neck. The shotgun in hand, he presses a kiss to Cas’ brow. “You’ll fit right in with the Winchester mob.”

“Shut up,” Cas says. His hands tremble as he reaches for Dean’s shirt. “And hug me.”

“Of course.”

Laying the gun down, Dean does. In fact, he hugs Cas so close, he almost worries it hurts, if he wasn’t acutely aware of how tightly Cas is holding onto him in turn. The adrenaline still coursing through him, Dean feels them both shaking as they come back down. He holds the back of Cas’ head, fingers buried in his hair, enveloping him whole. His gaze is torn to the road outside the gate again and he’s not sure what soothing words he’s mumbling to Cas.

“I’m sorry,” Cas says on a very shaky breath. “I’m sorry you had to experience that.”

“It’s fine, angel,” he whispers.

“Stop saying that.”

“Okay, it isn’t fine, but I’ll never not step up. You know that.”

Cas lets go and appears in front of him, almost nose to nose. “I know.” He sighs, his eyebrows doing that puppy thing, where he’s feeling too much at once. “I know,” he repeats.

Teeth suddenly chattering, Cas tries to burrow in his chest. Dean squeezes him closer for a moment, before holding him by the shoulders.

“Let’s go inside, angel.”

He doesn’t even think of offering to stay in the tent. Picking up the shotgun, he wants to head straight inside, take a shower, feed Cas and curl up on the couch.

Disregarding Dean’s intentions, Cas starts gathering up the gardening tools. “This first.”

With a sigh, he quickly follows suit, grabbing his tool box. 

“You think he’ll listen?”

Cas shrugs, as he opens the garage door with his foot to let Dean in first. “Who knows?”

“Well, do I have your permission to actually shoot him, if he doesn’t?”

“Alright, Butch Cassidy, that’ll do,” Cas grunts, squinting at him. “Keep that as plan D.”

“D?” he asks, penny dropping too slow.

Cas flashes him a small smile. “For Dumbass, cause I don’t want to lose you.”

Dean rolls his eyes, remembering that particular clashing of worlds. “God, you and Crowley in one room…”

“I didn’t hate the man.”

“A mood in itself,” Dean smiles reluctantly. His thoughts bounce from Crowley to Sam to… “Should we call Gabe?”

“So he can freak out over that?”

“To give him a head’s up the same way Sam gave me about our dad,” Dean nuances. “And perhaps to break the cycle of you shielding us from Lucifer’s shit.”

Cas mulls it over, nibbling at his thumb nail pensively, while Dean opens the back door for him. They toe off their shoes there. “Fair, I guess.”

“You guess,” Dean snorts. “Hop to it.”

With an overly dramatic sigh, Cas locates his phone in his office and returns, the dialing tone coming through the speaker.

“Cassie,” Gabe picks up, mouth audibly full. The clicking against his teeth suggests it’s a lollipop. “My darling baby brother!”

“Hi, Gabe,” Cas smiles. “How are you?”

“Fine, fine,” Gabe says. “They want me to come in once a week, which, fine, I’ll live with it. At least I still have a job, even if it’s a crappy one.”

“Silver linings?”

“Yeah, that.” 

“Dean’s been applying for the temporary ones that are now a thing, because of this quarantine.”

“Huh… Hadn’t considered those. Any luck?"

"He is still waiting for reactions."

There’s a wet popping sound. “Many systems have slowed down lately... How are you?”

“Alright. Dean’s been working on his bike and I put the first herbs of the year into the soil.”

“Babies or seeds?”

“Babies. We went to the garden center. Suddenly everyone has a green thumb,” Cas laughs.

Dean watches with interest as Cas’ body language slips into everything that screams ‘pretend’.

Cas fidgets with the sleeve of his sweater. His eyes track to Claire on her scratching post and he makes his way to stand beside it, crossing his feet at the ankles as he wiggles his finger at her nose, until she bumps her face into it. His face holds a neutral middle ground, his brow betraying his preoccupation, while his voice sounds cheerful. 

It’s deceptively believable.

“How was the garden date?”

That, at least, gets a genuine response, Cas’ voice turning silky smooth and he softens. “Lovely.”

“Oof,” Gabe snorts. “How you can put so much sugar in one word… I thought Sam was bad.”

“You’re no better,” Cas protests.

But the word ‘sugar’ seems to have ticked them both off. Cas leans his arm on the top level of the scratching post and his forehead against it, eyes falling shut. He works his way around the words a few times, failing, before they make it out.

“Lucifer was here,” he says, tone flat.

Letting his hand slide over Cas’ lower back, Dean passes by, gravitation doing the work for him, and Cas follows after, almost unthinking. As Dean makes his way into the kitchen to wash his hands, Cas leans on the counter, eyes darting skittishly.

“Gabe?”

“I hear you,” Gabe says tightly. “What happened?”

“Dean’s digging a hole in the garden…”

“Tell him to pace himself. Fuck social distancing, I’ll come over to assist.”

Dean can’t help it. A belly-laugh escapes him. “Oh, Gabe, I love you, man.”

“Shitballs... I take it from your presence, you did not, in fact, kill Lucifer and I just saw the chance to make it out of this house for a good cause slip me by?”

“Kinda,” Cas smiles. “Sorry.”

Dean dries his hands, noticing Cas’ hands are shaking as he puts the phone on the counter. Apart from that, he’s remarkably calm and Dean catches no signs of an impending panic attack. He’s not sure what to make of that.

“Don’t be, but tell me you chewed him out.”

“Oh, he did,” Dean says. “That ice-cold kind of collected anger, you know what I’m talking about?”

“I do. Try to keep your pants on, Dean-o.”

Last thing on his mind, to be fair, he thinks, as he opens the fridge in search of leftovers for dinner. They’ve got plenty, though they might need to make another food run again soon. “No worries.”

“Seriously though,” Gabe says. “What did he do?”

Cas sighs, tracking Dean moving through the kitchen as he sets about heating up leftovers and whipping up a batch of brownies.

“He walked into the garden, started bitching about a story I wrote that supposedly was about us so he wanted his share.”

“The balls on him.. He wants his share? How about the money he still owes you, hmm?” Gabe snaps loudly. 

“No need to remind me,” Cas says calmly. “I told him he’s entitled to exactly jackshit either way, whether it’s about us or not, and to get the fuck off our property.”

“How did that go over?”

“Not very well. I think me not rolling over pissed him off.”

“He didn’t know what to do with you,” Dean says.

“So when did your knight in shining armor have to step up?”

Dean snorts, stirring the melting butter and chocolate now and then, in between measuring out the other ingredients. He turns on the oven to let it pre-heat.

“When he tried to come at me,” Cas says, frowning.

“He what? Why didn’t you shoot him?”

“Cause it was the shotgun,” Dean says. “That would have killed him and y’know… Consequences? Also such a mess on the lawn.”

There’s the sound of a door closing. “A mess on the lawn… Wha…? What the hell, Dean?”

“Heya, Sammy,” Dean grins. “We had a ghost from the past visit today.”

“Lucifer,” Gabe says curtly. “And Dean didn’t shoot him.”

“That’s a good thing, Gabe,” Sam grumbles.

“Is it?” Dean echoes Gabe’s sentiments.

“What the hell is wrong with you two?”

They hear the sound of a kiss being exchanged.

“Thank you, Sam, I’m glad one other person is not okay with that. You just got back from your shift?” Cas asks.

“The shower,” Sam says. “Everything alright with you?”

“We are,” Cas nods. “After he tried to grab me, Dean walked him out the gate at gunpoint. He pulled the kicked puppy stunt and drove off.”

“I’m not sure whether to laugh, cry or call the cops,” Gabe says.

“You did file a complaint that last time,” Sam adds. “It might help…”

Cas cuts them both off, visibly annoyed. “I told him not to do it again. And I have a fair guess where it’s coming from, given that text he sent.”

“Pray tell,” Gabe sighs. “Don’t tell me you’re okay with this behavior.”

“I’m understanding,” Cas bites. “There is a difference. And I’d appreciate it if people didn’t fault me for my empathy. Without it, what am I?”

“No one’s faulting you for it, alright,” Dean says sharply, glaring at the phone to no avail.

He lifts the bowl of melted gold out of the boiling water and begins mixing in the other ingredients, starting with the eggs and vanilla essence. The scent of it lures Cas into the kitchen and he lingers next to Dean, face scrunched up in concentration.

“I’ve spent three years of my life with him. I understand a fair bit how his mind works and all of this,” he gestures for Dean’s sake, “The way daily life is up-ended? It sets off his control issues to no end. So he tries to regain control in other ways.”

“Well, that’s all very interesting, but still fucked up,” Gabe says.

“I’m not denying that,” Cas replies, softer. “But I don’t think he’ll do it again. For all his faults, he’s relatively intelligent. And the shotgun aimed at his chest scared him shitless, even if he didn’t really show it.”

Gabe has a short gigglefit. “I love you, Dean-o.”

Sam and Cas let out a similar disapproving grunt.

“Don’t give me that,” Dean grins. “You…”

A sound meant to tell Dean to _shut up_ follows as Cas squeezes his ass hard, making Dean yelp.

“Let me guess,” Sam grins, his voice taking on a higher lilt. “You looked sah hot!”

Dean can almost see him run his hands through his hair like a damsel in distress.

“Oh, fuck you both,” Cas snarls, pouting at Dean.

Chuckling deeply, Dean leans in and kisses him. Once, but Cas doesn’t give way. Twice, and he gives in a bit, the pout melting into a reluctant smile. Thrice, with some added tongue, and he pulls a sound from him that has Gabe and Sam protesting.

“Yeah, they’re fine,” Sam says. “Maybe we should hang up.”

“Nonono, don’t,” Dean laughs. “I’m baking brownies, I swear.”

“Is that what you’re calling it?”

“How was work, Sam?” Cas asks, fingers running over his lips distractedly.

He’s pouring the batter in a square tin, lined with baking paper.

“The hospital is weird now,” Sam says. “It’s part overrun, part ghost town. Many of us aren’t working as normal, but we have more work than ever before. Tape pathways on the floors to herd people. And Crowley’s been put at home, because he tested positive.”

“Shit,” Cas exhales. “How bad?”

“He’s still strong enough to fuss over us in the Whatsapp group, so not too bad for now. We’re taking turns to drop by his place and check in on him.”

“Man lives alone, right?” Dean asks.

“Uhh, not if you count Growley and Juliet.”

Dean almost chokes on the batter he’s licking off the spoon. Cas gently pats him on the back, sighing as if he’s dealing with a five year old with poor instincts. “Excuse me? _Growley_?”

“He says his niece named the dog, but I don’t believe him.”

“Give him our regards,” Cas says. “And be careful.”

“Crowley would threaten me with torture, if I wasn’t,” Sam laughs.

“Such a strange man.”

“Alright, brownies are in the oven for 24 minutes,” Dean says. “Were we gonna hit the shower?”

“You do that,” Gabe says, smirking audibly. “And thanks for letting us in on this, Cassie.”

Dean keeps an utter straight face, but he’s glad Gabe picked up on it. Cas narrows his eyes at him, speaking into the phone. “That’s okay. G’night, guys.”

“Night, you two,” Sam says.

Cas hangs up and leans over the counter, dropping his forehead to his crossed arms with a deep, exhausted groan. Feeling his own fatigue in the wake of the conflict and phone call, Dean reaches out to slip his hand under Cas’ sweater, slowly finger-walking his way up his spine.

“Let’s go, Cas,” he whispers.

Cas moves slowly, bumping into Dean often, while Dean helps him out of his clothes. His hands are all over Dean, clearly in search of touch and texture, as he peels Dean’s shirt off him and buries his hands in Dean’s hair. When Cas’ list falls out of Dean’s pocket, Cas picks it up, staring at it long and hard.

His thumb rubs circles over the paper, while his other hand reaches for Dean. He responds like the ocean to the moon and entwines their fingers. Blue eyes find his, a question in them, and Dean arches a delicate eyebrow.

“Not today, Cas,” he says simply.

He takes the little slip of paper and puts it aside. Cas moves with him towards the tub, hiding behind Dean when he opens the tap and the water sputters out of the shower head, splashing every which way before settling in a steady stream. Cas presses his chin into Dean’s shoulder, lacing his arms around his waist.

“I know,” Cas says, shooting him a bit of a look. “Today I only want to curl up with you on the couch. Just thinking…”

“What?” Dean smiles at him, letting the water run over his wrist.

“Looking forward to it either way.”

Dean hums in soft agreement. They share a touchy-feely shower in that comforting, are-you-there-are-you-really-there-stay-close-way. Dean’s briefly distracted by washing Cas’ hair again and kisses. So many soft kisses. But they make it out by the time the oven dings. Cas is wearing Dean’s ‘uber-soft’ hoodie and sweats. Dean for his part nicked Cas’ pajama pants, because fair’s fair, but he’s too warm for a shirt.

“No wonder,” Cas says. “Hold on.”

“But… oven,” Dean says, a Pavlovian response to anything kitchen-related taking over.

"Go, go," Cas waves.

Starving, he fills two generous bowls and brings everything into the living room, including the brownies. When Cas returns, he’s got a bottle of aftersun with him, wiggling it at Dean, who sets down water and two beers.

“Ahhh,” Dean nods. “Good idea. I can use it on you too.”

Cas puts the bottle down on the coffee table and sinks down on the couch, folding his legs. “I’m not burned.”

“No, but your back deserves some love,” Dean winks.

His heart flutters around happily at the sweet look that begets. He hands Cas his bowl and settles in next to him with his own, making sure their bodies are touching as much as possible.

“Money Heist?”

“Sure.”

When he hears the deep, content sigh escape Cas, a sense of relieved trust comes over Dean.

They got this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I am a sucker for Dean with a shotgun, alright? ^^ Also mildly surprised at how triggerhappy he turned out to be, this little mob Winchester we got goin', which perhaps shouldn't surprise me. For his Cas.
> 
> Cas did an important thing. I don't advise this for everyone, because safety and all. And a myriad of other nuances and stuff I won't even get into. Suffice to say, I enjoyed making Lucifer back off like this.
> 
> Much love to you and yours, as ever. When I say stay safe, that's in many ways at once.  
> Mal


	32. April 18th 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second the rope travels between his arms and back, the energy in the room changes, both of them radiating a heavy kind of heat. Cas’ voice, though gentle, startles him.
> 
> “Have you used these ropes before?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only way I feel comfy with Cas progressing so fast and smooth is because of the profound bond, harhar, with Dean. In other circumstances, it’s each their own pacing. I’m only saying this, because I know it took me longer ^^. First time writing shibari in more detail, so be kind. Not first time smut, but for some reason still very nervous about this one.
> 
> One more chapter to go, lovelies. It's starting to feel strange for me, but I'll save that for tomorrow's notes.
> 
> Until then, let me know how this chapter landed. It took me a long time until it felt right enough.
> 
> As ever, lotsa love to you and yours!  
> Mal

Dean is going to go out on a limb and guess Cas likes the feel of the rope. Both of them. For his part, his chest is swirling with a myriad of emotions powerful enough they fall well out of his English’s range. So he simply watches Cas run his fingers over them, sitting in the middle of the freshly made bed. His chest is bare, the sweats low on his hips. Dean’s idle hands hold the matchbox, while a strange current of nerves whirls right under his heart, as if it’s on quicksand.

They showered separately, Cas fussing over it being something of a date as he pushed Dean out of the bathroom. Dean hasn’t felt this giddy at the thought of a date in years.

Glancing around, he double-checks if he lit all of the candles, though missing one or two won’t matter much in the grand scheme of things. He tucks the box away in the nightstand drawer. The little flames wrap around Cas and the bed like a flickering orange halo. If Sam and Gabe were to see this, Gabe would likely accuse him of making others look bad and Sam would call him a sap.

As far as Dean’s concerned, Cas deserves nothing less.

He walks up to the bed, leaning one knee on to dip the mattress with his weight and gain Cas’ attention without having to break the silence. Blinking, Cas tilts into it, a hand shooting out to balance himself and he looks up at Dean. His eyes are darker, like the sky at the duskiest time of twilight, soft yet intense, and Dean risks being drawn into the deep end as he leans over. His lips skim over Cas’, but he leans out of it towards the ropes.

A languid kind of energy swirls in the space between them, or rather from Cas to him, when he hands the rope to Dean wordlessly, holding his gaze, and, hell, Dean’s nerves shift into eager anticipation. Cas is right there with him in that hunger. When Dean steps back, Cas scoots closer like he’s meant to hold the same amount of space between them.

Dean untucks the bight and watches the hank unravel to the floor, then glances at Cas. Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, Cas tries to fight a smile while he stands in front of Dean. His eyebrows rise minutely and he gestures Cas closer with two fingers.

They talked it through beforehand, but the curiosity oozes off Cas either way as Dean puts a hand to his shoulder, turning him around.

“Put your arms together for me,” he says, his voice tender.

Cas folds them behind his back, the insides of his wrists together. Dean’s pleased he remembers, though hardly surprised. The better student of the both of them, by a few miles. He places a quick kiss to Cas’ shoulder, right on a birthmark, which has Cas turning his head towards the affectionate gesture with an impish smile. Dean presses his forehead to Cas’ temple for a moment, before he starts.

The second the rope travels between his arms and back, the energy in the room changes, both of them radiating a heavy kind of heat. Cas’ voice, though gentle, startles him.

“Have you used these ropes before?”

Sensing how much the question surprises them both, Dean brings his arm around, resting his palm over Cas’ heart. The lub-dub he finds is gentle and steady, but flutters under his touch.

“Only on myself.”

He can almost see the little question mark appearing over Cas’ head.

“Practice.”

Cas nods, visibly thrilled with the answer that these ropes are theirs. A conscious choice on Dean’s end, though he didn’t anticipate Cas picking up on it. He sighs gently, when Dean lays down the first single column of the night around Cas’ wrists, the rope running smoothly through his fingers as he pulls it through. His skin feels softer, more sensitive under the sensation, slipping his fingers through the bight as he scissors the rope and hooks it through. The technique is second nature, the rope slithering over Cas’ bare skin smoothly, the sound of it soothing.

Cas’ fingers twitch and he leans backwards into the touch.

“Is this okay?” Dean asks, voice a touch heavy with mirth.

“I like the feeling when you pull the rope through,” Cas admits instantly.

“You feel that?”

Cas hums in confirmation with another small nod. Dean presses a lingering kiss, this time to his spine, adding a warm lick.

“So sensitive,” he mumbles and Cas’ shoulders tense lightly. “You’re beautiful.”

Instantly he inches into Dean’s touch, breathing out heavily, as if reassured. Dean realizes full well that, if they manage to remain so in sync, he will be utterly lost. To this. To Cas. Not that he wasn’t before, but there are depths far beyond where he already was, some of which he wasn’t expecting to explore.

Cas moves smoothly, turning on his axis, when prompted. Dean slides his fingers over the rope as he pulls a line across Cas’ lower chest, ensuring it’s flush against his skin. He grazes Cas’ nipples, smirking when Cas’ breath hitches and his eyes widen. Cocking his head, he works the ends through to create the reverse tension, laying a parallel line to the first one.

He can’t really stop himself from anointing Cas’ skin with kisses and gentle nips, while he runs the rope over his shoulder to the front. Cas’ eyes are searching his face intently, but drawn down to his hands with every gesture, utterly bemused. Dean’s gaze flicks to Cas’ face regularly, his insides warming up pleasantly.

He keeps two fingers under the chest strap on the same side, before he pulls the rope through and up to the opposite shoulder. For a moment, his inner perfectionist catches up and he casts a critical eye on the V that’s formed across Cas’ chest, tugging at the chest ropes until it’s right and they don’t bunch up. The little twist at his sternum came out pretty, so he steps behind Cas again. He weaves the tail behind the arm straps on the opposite side he came from and pulls it through, running out of rope.

“Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you take a picture when we’re done?”

A deep sense of approval courses through him, as Dean rests his forehead between Cas’ shoulders, inhaling his scent.

“Jeez… I like where your mind’s at.”

The laugh that begets him carries enough promising sleaze, a heated surge of desire shoots through him. He breathes out hotly in the back of Cas’ neck, pulling a breathy noise from Cas, which pleases him deeply.

Focus, Winchester.

Cas’ muscles flex when he moves within his bonds, testing them, while Dean ties a square knot, adding the second rope. He starts on the wrap to trap Cas’ arms and prevent the ropes from slipping over his shoulders.

“How’s this?” he asks, tugging at the cinch.

Stepping to Cas’ side, he slides two fingers under the arm strap on that side, testing the tension, and ensuring the rope is lying flat. This is also when he catches sight of Cas’ growing erection straining against the fabric of his pants.

“Pleasant,” Cas says, turning his face towards him, one eyebrow cocked.

Focus, who?

Blessedly distracted by all of Cas, Dean’s attention shifts from getting it right to the aesthetic of Cas in ropes in front of him. The way Cas tilts his head tempts Dean into stealing a chaste kiss. Clearly Cas disagrees and he surges forward, his tongue invading Dean’s mouth, which takes his breath away. Dean groans, his free hand coming up to grab the back of Cas’ head. Short, but intense, his head is spinning when he breaks the kiss.

“Gotta let me pay attention, angel.”

Cas nods, licking his lips, eyes caught on Dean’s. “Please.”

He’s not sure if he’s asking for another kiss or for Dean to continue, but it doesn’t matter. When he wiggles his fingers at Cas’ armpit to get a better grip on the rope, Cas giggles and squirms.

“Hey,” he laughs. “Hold still.”

“Well, stop tickling.”

“It’s going to get worse,” Dean grins.

He runs the rope across Cas’ upper chest. Leaning in, he ghosts a warm breath over his nipple, tip of his tongue teasing the bud with quick flicks. The pitch of his moan shoots up and Cas inches into the touch, but Dean breaks away quickly, repeating the cinch on the other side.

“Fuck,” Cas mutters, shuffling his weight from one foot to the other.

Dean lets him simmer, focusing intently on finishing the star, before he gets hopelessly sidetracked further. He lays two more lines over his shoulders, closer to Cas’ neck, the rope pulling through smoothly, creating a pleasant burn in his hands. He places his fingers behind the mass of ropes between Cas’ shoulder blades, holding open a little loop to pull the tail ends through, tightening it to finish.

He turns Cas around with his back to the bed to take him in, fingertips hovering at his shoulders. Cas straightens up, rolling his shoulders, gaze flicking down to the star that formed on his chest, and he smiles at Dean. The ropes line up beautifully, their dark blue color contrasting with Cas’ tanned skin, caught in the flames.

Something tugs at Dean, darkly enchanting under his sternum, when Cas holds his gaze and bends his leg at the knee, sliding the bridge of his foot over the sheets. His balance is impeccable, even tied up. Like water, he sinks back onto the bed, jutting his chin out at Dean invitingly. His other leg extends towards Dean, foot rubbing against his shin.

Clearing his throat, Dean pretends deep concentration and digs his phone up from his pocket.

With one, two more nudges of his foot, Cas is in the middle of the bed, his slacks dangerously low on his hips, the V cut practically begging Dean to dip in. Adjusting the lighting, Dean snaps two or three shots, before he tosses the phone on the bed. He lets his sweats drop to the floor, palming at his dick at half-mast and chases after Cas. 

The mattress dips under his weight, a surprised laugh bounced out of Cas when it does. He drapes himself bodily over him, withholding touch, and reaches over to the nightstand that holds everything they’re going to need. Cas’ face tilts along, tracking the gesture, and he butterflies a kiss to Dean’s throat.

For now, he finds the blindfold.

*

Dean had no idea he could make Cas babble so much in such a short span of time. He’s been cataloguing them, because he has the freedom to explore all of Cas at his own pace. 

Cas’ ears are amazingly sensitive. Dean only has to breathe out near the shell or give a hint of a nibble at his ear lobe for Cas’ to push himself up off the mattress with his heels, letting out quick, urgent gasps, baring his neck to Dean.

He places his palm on Cas’ stomach, moving it up to his chest to feel the beating of his heart. Licking and biting down on his neck calms him back down to delectable, breathy moans, Dean’s name sprinkled in here and there, which has him smiling from ear to ear.

His sides are ticklish, distractingly so, when Dean circles his tongue around his nipple, before he sucks down. His brain sort of lights up at the guttural response that elicits, knowing he has the power to do so. It has his dick twitching and leaking. Dean folds his fingers and lets them graze down Cas’ stomach to his treasure trail, ghosting a tease over his hard cock.

He creates a path of dark marks on Cas’ skin on his way down, peeling off his pants. Settling between Cas’ legs, Dean stretches one leg up so it rests on his shoulder. He starts at the ankle, teasing small, quick kisses, and finds a very soft spot in the back of Cas’ knee which draws out a surprised giggle. Holding him in place by the hip with his free hand, he licks a trail down his hamstring, hand in the fold of Cas’ knee.

The further he gets, the less Cas agrees with his pacing. Or perhaps it’s because he is working his way closer and closer to Cas’ groin and Cas knows it. If it wasn’t for robbing himself of feeling those eyes on him, he’d use a blindfold more often.

He hits new territory when he dips in, licking a hot, wet trail with the flat of his tongue over the tendon. Cas lets out a high-pitched squeal, legs falling wide before his thighs close around Dean. It brings his face delightfully close to Cas’ dick, but he licks back down the tendon, the high tone dipping into an almost feral growl.

Dean folds his arms under Cas’ buttocks and his hands around to the inside of his thighs, locking him in place.

“Oh, no,” Cas whimpers. “Nonono, ahhh, I wanna move… Dean…”

“Not yet, baby.”

He chuckles, nosing at Cas’ balls, relishing the desperate noises, and his name repeated in rapid succession along with a heartfelt string of expletives, when Dean takes Cas into his mouth. He eases up on his hip with one hand, bringing it in to wrap low around Cas, bobbing his head up and down. Clearly wound up, Cas fucks brazenly into his mouth, a telltale throb pulsing through his dick. Immediately Dean lets up, popping off the tip.

“No, fuck, don’t stop!”

He squeezes his hand around the base, until the urgent feeling subsides, despite Cas’ destitute protests. Bending over, he lets his tongue flick out, teasing the slit, licking up the pre-come and savoring it.

A thin sob escapes Cas, that has Dean looking up, a hint of concern slipping in. Obsolete, when he catches sight of Cas’ blindfolded face, flushed and needy, a smile on his lips. 

“Do that again…”

He rolls his hips and Dean sucks him in deep, all the way, once, before letting go in favor of casually jacking him off. Frustration seeps into Cas’ every gesture, gorgeous in what it implies, and he bucks his hips, trying to fuck into the circle of Dean’s hand.

“Dean,” he huffs out. “Dean, ahhh, mmhmore… I want to… please, please…”

He wants to watch Cas come. Have him fuck his face. Maybe.

“Cas,” he groans, feeling utterly wrecked.

Because, Jezus H. Christ, Cas is… something, everything. His.

Beautiful. Perfect. Responsive. And right now, in delightful need of everything Dean can give.

And there’s nothing he will not give. Including playing by the rules they set up.

Because Cas asked Dean to keep him down, so he’s going against his own requests. Dean withholds his touch immediately, sitting up and watching the sight sprawled against the sheets before him. His bound chest flushed, the tinge spreading to his neck and cheeks, a beautiful sheen of sweat all over. His cock, slick with saliva, strains as he searches for the absent touch of Dean’s hand. The scent of him is driving Dean insane, but he rests on his haunches, waiting…

With a questioning whimper, Cas stills, his face tilted to where he last felt Dean. A sweet, uncertain mew follows that threatens to break his heart. Dean hovers a gentle hand near his neck, fingers butterflying over Cas’ lips. They part instinctively, Cas inhaling hotly, his tongue flicking out on a relieved noise. He sucks them into his mouth, before Dean pulls them back.

“Fuuuuck,” Dean moans faintly, then lowers his voice. “You’re being a bit of a brat, Cas.”

Clearly urged on by how affected Dean sounds, Cas breathes heavily through a teasing laugh. “But it’s so… your hands, your tongue, I want... Please…?”

His blood is rushing in his ears, thudding through his veins palpably, because he wants as much as Cas does. He leans on his hand to the side of Cas’ head, grabbing the blindfold, and removes it. Like gravity, their eyes find each other.

“Sweetheart,” Cas says on a tentative smile.

“My angel, I assure you you’ll get it,” Dean says soothingly, letting a sharp edge into his tone. “Eventually.”

Mewling, Cas nods, but his hips move in small, urgent thrusts, punctuated with wanton huffs. His gaze is glued to Dean, heavy enough for his skin to tingle. Sitting up, he tugs at Cas’ hips, holding him down firmly.

“Cas,” he says sternly. “No squirming.”

Cas’ eyes go wider at the tone and he stares at Dean. Dean’s heartbeat picks up, when Cas bends his leg and slides his foot from Dean’s stomach to his chest, toes catching on his skin. As the curve of Cas’ ass is bared, so inviting, so tempting, Dean’s hand comes off his hip, itching to slap him into obedience.

It’s a quick, almost instinctive gesture, provoked by Cas, so naturally incessant under his touch. 

“You want to hit me, don’t you?”

He freezes at the taunting words, finding Cas’ darkened eyes on him, chest rising and falling rapidly. Not surprised by his own urge, Dean nevertheless stutters in his movement, rubbing his fingers together to stop the itching. It’s off the table. Cas knows it is.

It doesn’t stop him from hoisting both his legs up higher and tilting sideways, a seductive smile drawing Dean in, inviting him to take what he wants.

They agreed on this. To an extent… Cas pushing Dean’s buttons. He wanted Cas to. Cas clearly loves it. But fuck, he sorely underestimated the dark impulse that would release inside him. 

“Dean...” The sparkle in Cas’ eyes is all too knowing, impish, glorious.

“Holy fucking shit, Cas,” Dean laughs on a snarl. 

He palms at Cas’ ass with both hands, delighting the loud, entirely too pleased ‘yes’ that earns him, squeezing the flesh hard. “Yesssss, Dean,” Cas moans. “Come on. I want you to…”

“I know,” Dean says warningly, an idea sparking. “It ain’t happening, baby.”

Cas pouts at him in earnest, but Dean grabs hold of his thighs, dragging his hands to the inside. Pushing Cas’ legs wide, he chuckles when Cas smiles, thinking perhaps he’s somehow getting what he wants.

Dean arm-walks his way up, claiming Cas’ mouth harshly, kissing him deeply until he relaxes under him, surrendering to the sensation of his tongue and Dean’s weight on top. The rope grazes against Dean’s chest in the process, leaving hot tingly paths in its wake. 

“Work with me,” he says, hooking his hand around Cas’ shoulder.

Darkened blue eyes look at him curiously, but so trusting and cooperative as he turns on his side, Dean’s heart swells.

“On your stomach, angel,” he grins, relishing the heat that blooms from Cas’ chest to his neck rapidly.

Suddenly he’s faster, rolling over and hoisting his legs up under him, all but presenting himself to Dean. Eyes lingering on the view, Dean forces himself to focus, letting his hands skim over Cas’ arms to his fingers, entwining them.

“How are your arms?”

Cas flexes his fingers, squeezing his, and moves his arms within the harness, chest pressed into the mattress. His voice comes out a bit deeper. 

“Lookie, they wiggle,” Cas smiles. “All good… Dean, touch me.”

He smiles crookedly. “No need to ask twice. You’re gorgeous. I’m going to get the lube, alright? Hold like this for me.”

Planting a kiss to each cheek, he gets up, Cas’ eyes following him. He grabs the lube and the sex wipes, just in case. He squeezes a small amount of lube in his hand and rubs it warm, tossing the bottle and wipes down at the end of the bed. 

Settling back in, he slides his fingers along the underside of Cas’ length to his balls. Cas wiggles his hips and his toes curl. Dean can’t resist building it slow, but Cas’ balls still feel tight in his hands, eager for release. 

“Is there anything… you want, angel?”

He tugs at the top of Cas’ cock, fast but loose, drawing stuttering noises out of him. Cas huffs a shy laugh, then muffles himself in the pillow. Craning his neck and dipping low to the inside of Cas’ thigh, Dean licks a lazy trace, exhaling hotly, jacking him off a few times. The salty scent of him draws him closer. Cas angles his hips, snarling slightly, bordering on frustrated, clearly wanting Dean’s fingers elsewhere.

“Anything at all?” Dean asks innocently.

Cas twists onto one shoulder, forehead to the mattress, trying to shoot Dean a heated glare. From his vantage point between Cas’ spread legs, its effect is marginally successful. The ropes work against him and he whines, trying to get Dean to touch him again. “Mmmh, Dean, be nice to your brat. Please!”

The term nearly undoes him. Snarling out an expletive, he rises and grabs hold of Cas’ hips, pushing his fingers into him, savoring the drawn-out, relieved groan that earns him. Cas’ shameless encouragements of ‘yes’, ‘Dean’, ‘more’ wash over him like caresses, pooling around him until all his senses are drenched in Cas’ essence.

“Oh, god, I wanna sink into you,” he mutters, licking between Cas’ shoulder blades.

A tremor wracks through Cas’ frame. Destitute noises barely make it through and Dean forces himself to hold back, voice steelier when he leans on one elbow, coming alongside Cas; eyes tracking over Cas’ bound skin. He whispers lowly right next to Cas’ ear. 

“Use your words, baby.”

Scissoring his fingers, he continues to work Cas open, but he’s more than ready.

Dean just wants to hear him say it. And he’s not above admitting it’s with a certain amount of desperation. He wants Cas to say it, so he can lose himself in him.

Cas actually shakes his head, trying to hide. Dean hooks the fingers of his other hand into the harness at Cas’ ribs and yanks at it, the gesture jolting a delicate hiccup out of Cas. His own core muscles are burning as he holds his weight up. Dean slides that hand around to Cas’ chest, tweaking a nipple between his thumb and index finger, and Cas’ hips move of their own accord, fucking down on his fingers harder. They’re a far way off from Cas telling Dean to fuck him into the wall.

“Whatever you want, Cas,” he says soothingly, kissing the back of his neck. “Yours, always. It’s okay. I’ve got you. Just use your words.”

He wonders if he’s pushed it too far. Calming down, Cas tilts his head back, baring his neck, bodily leaning into him. Dean pushes up on his elbow to accommodate Cas so he can press their foreheads together, letting his fingers slip out. Blue, glassy eyes open and find his. Dean’s world collapses in on itself, narrowing his awareness to this hot pocket of reality.

“Dean, sweetheart,” Cas whispers shakily. There’s a strange smile tugging at his mouth, at once loving and desperate. “Yes, everything… Please fuck me.”

He leans in, finding one kiss to soften the energy, if only for a moment. Until Cas mutters his name against them, pleading, and sucks his lower lip into his mouth. They move in sync, Cas turning onto his stomach, readjusting his legs, while Dean sits on his knees behind him.

Dean reaches for the wipes, cleaning off his fingers, before he squeezes some lube in his hand. His other hand rests on Cas’ lower back, anchoring him, while he slicks himself up. A strangled, urgent noise floats over from Cas, when Dean slides between Cas’ cheeks a few times, teasing his rim. Flexing his abdomen, he lines himself up, slipping into Cas like they were made for each other.

And spare him, Dean’s convinced they are.

He gives a few shallow thrusts, kneeing Cas’ legs apart more, before pulling out until his head catches on Cas’ rim. This time he’s prepared for Cas’ impatience, holding him down, before he can sheath himself on Dean like he’s expecting him to.

“Goddamnit, you… Dean,” Cas rumbles, his back flexing beautifully.

“Hmm,” Dean hums smugly, licking his lips.

Pleased with himself and expertly ignoring Cas’ cursing, he inches Cas backwards by his hips, watching his dick ease into him, inch by inch. The expletives make way for keen encouragement. Gliding his palms over Cas’ sweaty, lower back, he presses his fingertips into the dimples he finds. He pushes Cas’ ass cheeks together when he drags back out and repeats the motion, a rough sound pulled from them both at the tight sensation. 

“Hell, sweetheart, finally,” Cas drawls, satisfied at being full. 

Trembling in his own skin, Dean gives in with a sigh and a smile. Moves his hips freely, chasing the unwinding of their built-up energy, and finds a pace to make Cas keen out his name. He watches the sight of Cas tied up, face in the sheets, cleaving to him. He wants to feel him surrender, uncoil, go undone. 

He might be hooked on this. His voice goes hoarse, his breathing amping up. And this ebb and flow between them has Cas’ sounds wrap around him like the ocean’s waves. Cas’ muscles strain when Dean pulls him back harsher, a sharp snap to his own hips.

His eyes catch on the ropes against Cas’ skin. Mesmerized, greedy, in need of release, Dean reaches over to Cas’ tied up arms. He hooks his fingers through the weave and pulls them taut at the same time that he drives into him. Hard enough that the double sensation of thrust and pull knocks a surprised shout out of Cas.

“Dean! Oh, god, yes!”

He leans over on one arm, burying his nose in Cas’ hair, fucking into him faster. It suffices to chase Cas over the edge abruptly. He arches his back, fingers scrambling for Dean’s, clamping down on him violently, hips stuttering as he comes. The intensity of the moment pulls Dean right along into the deep end. All he can do before his vision blacks out is wrap an arm around Cas, burying his nose in his sweaty hair, the name of his angel on guttural repeat, filling him up.

He has the presence of mind to not let his weight fall on Cas, instead rolling them on their side, away from the sticky mess. He slips out of Cas wetly, aware that he can’t afford to lie down and fall asleep. For a few intense heartbeats, however, they catch their breaths, Dean’s fingers still hooked in the harness. Then Cas moves onto his back, eyes closed.

“Cuddles,” he grumbles.

Dean laughs heartily. Cas sounds out of it, but still manages this sass. Snickering helplessly, he helps Cas sit up with his back to him, legs folded. Removing the ropes from Cas goes smoother than he expects. Cas is cooperative and careful in his movements. Dean keeps his voice low and silky, though he isn’t sure what he’s saying. His eyes catch on the beautiful rope marks revealed with every released inch, while he coils the rope.

“Move slow, angel.”

“I know,” Cas says with a sated smile. He brings his arms to the front for the first time, fingers flexing. “This feels so… so…” 

When he falters, it says more than any words can and Dean’s pride kicks in. He pulls Cas in so he’s leaning against his chest, while Dean finishes coiling the ropes before laying them aside. Suddenly, Cas exhales harshly and falls sideways.

“Cas,” Dean exclaims worriedly. 

Intuitively he chases him, his arms coming round to catch him, and they land clumsily on the sheets.

“Cas, you alright?” 

Cas’ eyes are heavy-lidded, but he’s there. All he gets is a nod, as Cas closes them again. Pressing his fingers to his neck to find his pulse, Dean counts, until he’s reassured it’s the afterglow. Shoving the messy sheet into a pile at the end of the bed, Dean reaches for the blanket on the nightstand. He drapes it over them. They cuddle up, Cas’ movement noticeably more sluggish than his.

It takes a few minutes of dreamily moving, fingers dancing across Dean’s skin, then his own arms, as Cas is captivated too by the marks left behind. He looks up at Dean, brow furrowed.

“Did I… Did we…?”

The lilt in his tone gives away the self-doubt behind his question and Dean’s heart almost shatters. He wraps his arms around him gently, kissing the frown off his brow, his voice thick. “You’re perfect, Cas. So responsive… You’re a natural.”

Cas purrs at him, whatever tension he was about to gather in his shoulders oozing out of him as he melts against Dean. He angles his head up at Dean, looking at him adoringly and Dean turns to goo. 

Smug goo, but goo nonetheless. 

Cause that look right there, that’s awesome.

“All yours,” Cas whispers. 

Which is probably the first time the claim goes the other way around. Out loud. Dean’s fingers flex, a shiver vibrating through him from his core outward, so strongly Cas must feel it. He brings his hands up to cup Cas’ face and kisses him gently. 

“Yours,” he echoes, voice thick with emotion.

Cas hums sweetly, his arms coming up leisurely to rest at Dean’s neck.

“Drink?”

Muffling his protest, Cas hides in his chest, shaking his head.

“You sure?”

Hazy eyes peek up and Cas seems to glow from the inside out. His hair’s wet and matted to his forehead and neck. Dean reaches out, tracing Cas’ cheekbones with his thumbs. Cas kisses the inside of his wrist. 

“Cuddle a little longer,” he mumbles. “That was amazing. I want your warmth.”

Hearing Cas affirm him makes Dean realize it’s as much part of the aftercare as him caring for Cas. He trembles slightly at the loving praise and settles in with Cas, his heart calming down, though the butterflies around it don’t. He has a feeling they’re there to stay. Permanently.


	33. April 19th 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean stares around the garden. At his family. They’re maintaining a stupid distance, but they’re here. In the flesh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My emotional, grateful ramblings are in the end notes. I got carried away and it's all your doing.
> 
> I promised I'd link to the other challenge coming up so... [Omegaverse](https://destielomegaversebigbang.tumblr.com/post/615777239438639104/posting-19th-may-2020-nomad-by-fate-by-maleyah) promo went up today!
> 
> Feel free to share my stories on whatever platform you're on! The more, the merrier. <3
> 
> No warnings for this one. Just pure fluff to bring this full circle.  
> Love you for being here and hope you are well,  
> Mal

His phone ringing drags Dean out of his sleep roughly. He grumbles, frantically searching for it among the mess of sheets and the blanket. He doesn’t even look at the number that’s calling, simply picks up, as his other hand seeks out Cas.

“Yello?”

His voice sounds debauched, so he coughs a few times in the hopes of finding it back.

“Sorry. Mornin’,” he recovers, looking at Cas.

He is sprawled out, on his stomach, one leg tucked up, still blissfully asleep.

“Uhh, morning,” an unfamiliar voice says. “Is this… Dean Winchester?”

“Yeah. Can I help you?”

“Benny Lafitte,” the man says. “And I sure hope you can, cher, I got your resume.”

This chases some of the morning laziness. Dean scoots up, shoving a pillow up against the headboard, and sinks into it.

“For the mechanic job,” Dean says. “All ears. What do you need?”

The mattress heaving under Dean’s weight, Cas slurs out a ‘whut’, squinting at the light before he stares around bleary-eyed. Dean snickers, beckoning him and his impressive, glorious bedhead over. When he zones in on Dean, a stupidly sweet smile forms and he arm-walks his way over. Without further ado, he slots between Dean’s legs, resting his head on his stomach, snuggling up, arms snaking around his waist.

“Well, my regular help is out and I just busted up my shoulder trying to do a two man job on my own.”

“Aww, come on, man.”

Benny’s laugh is deep and easy-going. “I know. Your resume is all over the place. You sure you wanna apply for this?”

Dean hums his agreement, running his fingers through Cas’ hair. There are still some marks visible on his skin, but most of them seem gone. Something deeply content butterflies around his heart as he skims his fingers over Cas’ sleep-warm skin, feeling Cas’ breath puff against his stomach intimately.

“I’m trained as a cook, but I grew up a complete gear head. Rebuilt my Impala from the ground when the insurance bailed on me after an accident.”

“No other damage, I hope?”

“Nothing lasting that wasn’t there before,” Dean grins.

“Promising. So when would you be able to start?”

“When do you need me?”

Benny seems surprised, but quick on his feet. “Tomorrow at 10AM? We’ll go over the details of the contract. Under the current circumstances, I can’t offer a full time or a fixed schedule, because it’s a bit of touch and go. Hell, it’s a lot of touch and go.”

Dean expresses his agreement with a grunt.

“Essential industry, but small business owner. I figured you’d understand.”

“I… Yeah, I do,” Dean says, taken aback.

Benny seems to hurry to clarify. “Winchester. From The Roadhouse, right?”

“Oh! Yeah, man, that’s me, but closed obviously.”

“You’re telling me. Your place kept me from sustaining myself on frozen dinners and take-out, since I settled down here.”

He laughs. “Does that mean you’ve been resorting to such measures?”

Benny stutters on a deep, shy laugh. “Kinda?”

“Oh, I see how it is. I’ll make sure to bring some fresh food whenever I’m over.”

“I had a feeling we’d understand each other. Sorry to wake you.”

“No worries. We were up kinda late,” Dean admits, trying to keep the smirk out of his voice.

He fails. Benny’s none the wiser, he guesses, but Cas’ eyes open and he tilts his head up until he can look at Dean, that mischievous smile curling the corners of his mouth up. Dean licks his lips, trailing his thumb over Cas’ lower lip.

“See you Monday then.”

“Yeah, thanks for the call, man. You have no idea what a relief this is.”

He hangs up, staring at his phone for a bit, excitement swirling like crazy in his chest.

“You got the job,” Cas says, smiling.

Matter-of-fact. Trusting. Like he never had any doubt in his mind Dean would.

“I did.”

Before he’s able to put the phone aside, Cas pulls him in for a kiss, inhaling deeply through his nose. It’s quick and sweet, before he starts snuffling at Dean’s neck, laughing happily, chest pressed now against his stomach. There’s a sense of relief in it, echoing Dean’s own. Tossing his phone, Dean hugs Cas close, squeezing down on his back muscles, finding one lazy, indulgent kiss after another.

“Oh, holy hell, that’s a lovely sting,” Cas mumbles.

He groans and stretches within the circle of Dean’s arms. Accommodating him, Dean’s hands slide from Cas’ shoulder to his hip and back.

“How are you feeling?”

Cas lights up, nuzzling into his chest, before pressing his nose gently to his. “Perfect, snoozy, happy. All the good things.”

“Except for this morning breath maybe,” Dean says.

With a faux-insulted sound, Cas pulls back. “Excuse me? I smell like heaven by default.”

“Close,” Dean amends. “Right now you smell like sleep and sex and… us, I guess.”

“Hmmm,” Cas smiles. “As much as I’d love to add to that perfume, we have to shower and get up.”

“What? It’s Sunday. Sundays are meant for snuggles and doing nothing but exactly what or who you want to do.”

Mirth twinkling in his eyes, Cas laughs, the sound muffled when he gives in to more kisses. His arms squeeze tight around Dean’s waist, and despite that they ‘have to get up’, Cas slips his tongue into his mouth. Dean groans, pressing down harder on his back muscles, hands coming up to cup Cas’ face.

Lazy mornings. He wants them forever.

When Cas breaks the kiss, but stays _right there_ , he sounds audibly pleased with himself. “We’re getting visitors.”

Dean didn’t expect to feel so elated at the words. Like the sun is rising for the second time today, but inside his chest. “Huh?”

“Come on, hotshot,” Cas smiles, pressing his palm to Dean’s stomach with a gentle pat. “Shower.”

“Visitors?”

“Shower.”

It’s safe to say they get side-tracked there.

*

Dean stares around the garden. At his family. They’re maintaining a stupid distance, but they’re _here._ In the flesh.

Michael gets up from the lounge chair he’s sharing with Adam, who instantly takes up the whole thing, and saunters over to Dean’s bike. They’ve been using a lot less of the available space on said lounger than would be comfortable. Young love.

Gabe is sprawled out on a beach towel on the grass, relishing the feel of the blades under his fingers, talking animatedly with Cas who’s standing a safe distance away, near the herbs he planted two days ago. Cas has been walking up and down a lot, feeding off the energy of the others. His eyes are bright, his gestures smooth. They’re both so visibly relieved to see each other, it’s hard not to smile like an idiot.

And Sam’s right there, a sensible six feet apart, grabbing a beer bottle from the garden table. Gabe brought a selection of the pralines he’s been making the past weeks. Dean set out the brownies and there’s a second batch in the oven. Because he can’t not cook for his family.

He sips from his own bottle, experiencing a deep sense of ‘at long fucking last’.

“You look… healthy,” Dean grins, eyes falling to Sam’s stomach. “If a bit tired.”

“Fuck you,” Sam says fondly. “He’s been doing nothing but cooking and feeding me, because I work too hard.”

Sam pats his tummy and Dean grins wider, mischief surely dripping off him in spades, because he’s always been the one prone to softness. Still is. Not that he cares much anymore, but it’s cute to see Sam gain some.

“Because you do,” he says.

“Uh-huh. I think I got the message. Cas said something about you getting a job?”

“Yes!” Dean says, snapping his fingers. “That auto shop with those two glorious old timers behind the fence?”

“Ooh, yeah. You’ve been drooling over those for a while,” Sam smiles. “When?”

“Monday to go over the contract. I mean, he said it won’t be a full time gig, but at least I’ll be working again.”

His breath hitches uncertainly. He’ll be out of the house.

His gaze is torn to Cas almost viciously, because he realizes he hasn’t been apart from him for more than half an hour to an hour in over thirty-three days. He’s been steeped in his presence. His adult ass self knows going to work at Benny’s is for a good reason. Some semblance of normal can return to him, but shit if his heart isn’t quivering under the implications. Like it’s on the verge of shattering but never does, because there’s too much going right. Instead it’s falling endlessly, much like he’s been doing for years.

“Dean,” Sam says.

“Hmm?”

He looks at his brother, heartbeat pounding in his ears. What the hell?

“Cas will still be here when you get home.”

“I know.”

It provokes a smile that painfully offsets his inner workings. He did not count on this. Any of it. Being with Cas is one thing, but being so closely entwined… Shit. He bows his head, eyes closed, both hands on the bottle, and lets the unsettling feeling churn and writhe. It takes a while, until it resolves into a dull ache. There’s barbs sticking out of it. He got comfortable. Simply doesn’t want to be away from Cas. Doesn’t want this cocoon of ridiculous happiness to be popped by reality. And…

Ah.

There it is. He clenches his jaw at the thought, glaring at the closed gates.

“As long as, y’know, nothing happens while I’m away.”

Sam turns his head towards the gates too, then stares at Cas, who’s pulling weeds, while talking to Gabe, Adam and Michael. He nods a few times, pursing his lips so his dimples show.

“He’s lived alone for quite a while. And I know how you look pissed off with a shotgun. He’s not going to risk it again, knowing you live here now.”

Leave it to Sam to effortlessly catch on. Dean nods, taking long swigs from the bottle.

“Dean,” Sam scoffs.

“What?”

“You’ve always given him so much space. Don’t start doubting him now that he’s… y’know,” he rolls his eyes. “Yours.”

An involuntary, high-pitched snicker makes it past Dean’s lips at the wording, because holy hell, Sammy, if only you knew. But his heart eases up on the trembling ache slightly when the words register.

“You’re right. He’s so strong, Sam, I can’t even begin to describe it.”

“No need,” Sam smiles. “Just… do whatever you’ve been doing before. You two already were as good as an item. And he’s good for you, Dean.”

Dean can’t help it and he knows his face is giving him away, helplessly lost on Cas. His heart feels like a raw nerve, every one of his emotions a string on a harp in Cas’ gentle hands. And at the same time so much more. He frowns, feeling the inappropriate smugness ooze off him, as he tries to control the grin that forms and fails utterly, deeply, because he can’t not remember how Cas makes him feel.

“There’s maybe a thing or two that changed.”

Sam scoffs, narrowing his eyes at him in good humor. “Spare me, alright?”

Licking his tongue over his teeth, Dean shakes his head and finishes the beer to swallow whatever idiotic remark he might make. It’s part bluster to give himself some breathing space, because it’s all too intense suddenly.

The words ‘granny’ drops on Cas’ end and he looks up. Gabe rests on his elbow, one hand shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun. “We tried.”

“To get her out of there?” he gestures at her residence.

“Yeah,” Gabe nods. “She’s not allowed out, because she’s at too much risk.”

“We can call her,” Cas says. “Give her a 360 degree tour of the garden.”

Gabe digs up his phone, letting it ring. Dean watches as gravity pulls the others in. Michael’s eager, leaning over Gabe, fingers linked with Adam’s. Sam walks over, adding his looming form to the mass that’s forming around Gabriel.

Except for Cas.

Dean shoots Cas a soft look, while he meanders his way towards him. He’s doing that soft thing with his fingertips peeking out of his sleeves, chewing his thumb nail, looking at the world with twinkly, gentle eyes. He stops about an arm’s length short of Dean and glances back at the four of them, talking to granny.

There’s the tell-tale fussing when she picks up. “My boys! Oh! You’re… Is that Adam?”

“Heya, granny!”

“Yeppers,” Gabe smiles. “We decided to meet up at Dean and Cas’ today, remember?”

“Ohhh, yes,” she says. “Goddamn narks won’t let me leave.”

Michael barks a loud laugh, waving at her. “Hiya, Mrs. Novak!”

“And who are you, beautiful?”

“Michael, ma’am.”

“My boyfriend, granny,” Adam says, lacing his arms around Michael’s shoulders.

“Charmed to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you and not all good things, but that’s just how this family likes it.”

“I knew it!” Dean yells at Adam.

Michael and Adam shoot him wicked grins. Gabe gets up from the towel.

“How about a tour of the garden?”

“Show me the garage,” she says. “I want to know if he’s cleaned it out.”

Cas groans softly.

Granny sufficiently entranced by Gabe giving her the tour of a garden and garage that aren’t even his, with the three others in tow, Dean pulls Cas back by the waistband of his pants.

“Dean,” he protests with a laugh.

It’s short-lived, as he eases into his lap so they’re face to face, legs squishing into the chair next to Dean’s. It’s all a little tight and the chair isn’t meant to carry this amount of weight, but it’s delightfully close and warm, soothing the ache below his heart like a balm. Even if Cas doesn’t realize it. Dean steals a long kiss, hands slipping under his sweater.

“When did you arrange this?” he whispers.

“Somewhere during this very foggy morning,” Cas smiles.

“I didn’t hear a thing.”

“Well, you _were_ out like a light.”

Cas bats his lashes innocently, as if he has a not-so-vague idea why Dean was completely conked out.

“So were you when I got that call from Benny.”

“Obviously, because I was awake a lot earlier than you,” Cas says, mock-exasperated.

His eyes swirl with warm emotions, clearly revisiting last night. He cups his hands around Dean’s face, capturing his lips. They stay like that for a while.

“God, I love you, Cas,” he mutters. “So much.”

So much it hurts. That good kind of pain. But he’s not going to say that, because Cas’ eyebrows are already doing that thing where they furrow in concern and no one needs that right now. Hell, Dean doesn’t need it. He just needs to stay here with Cas and his family.

Footsteps approach, under a chorus of giggles. Gabe snickers louder, bringing the camera in, aimed at them.

“And here you see, granny, Cas in his natural habitat, namely Dean’s…”

“Gabriel,” granny says sharply. “Mind your words.”

“Lap,” Gabe grins, turning the phone around. “I was gonna say lap. He called us so early, by the way, he even made Sam grumpy.”

“I’m sure you were,” she sniffs. “It’s good to see you all together! My darling angels, we’re starting a game here, so I’ve got to go.”

“Which game?”

“A very dark humor version of Bingo.”

“Whose idea was that?”

“Who do you think?” she smiles fondly.

They bid their goodbyes with lots of hand kisses, trying not to crowd together too much. But who are they kidding. Dean can’t really care at this point, needing them close, because everything feels a bit intense. Cas’ weight on him, the warmth of Sam and Adam on either side, he soaks up their energy, his skin tingling under the sensations, ears humming with the melody of their voices and laughter.

Hell, they even smell like home, Cas’ scent at the center of it.

Their warmth recedes as they break apart, finding their seats back.

“Jeez, Cas,” Dean grins. “That early?”

“I was a little… woozy,” he admits, fiddling with his sweater sleeve. “And the idea just hit so I called.”

The fabric slides down enough for Dean to see the hint of marks. Or maybe it’s just his imagination and the sunlight messing with him, because they should have eased up. The mere thought is enough for a warmth to bloom under his sternum. He shoots Cas a sweet, suggestive wink. Which, against expectations, provokes Cas into a blush. His gummy smile lights up his face.

Awesome. Lovely. Beautiful.

“God, you’re a sucker,” Gabe snorts inelegantly. His eyes flick from Dean to Cas and back. “Like hardcore so fucked, head over heels sucker.”

Flipping him off out of pure habit, Dean coughs, feeling like he got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Who, me?”

“Both of you,” Sam laughs. “It’s very, _very_ chick-flicky.”

“And annoyingly cute,” Michael adds.

“You’re only saying that because you lost,” Dean quips.

Michael’s eyes glitter, as he tilts his head. “Hey, can I take Adam home on your bike?”

Dean barks an incredulous laugh, but Cas beats him to the punch. “If anyone’s riding bitch seat any time soon, it’ll be me.”

If he’d been drinking, the beer would have gone straight up his nose. As it is, he chokes on his own saliva. “Bitch seat?”

Cas turns wide, not-so-innocent eyes on him. “Isn’t that what they’re called?”

“In some circles, sure,” Gabe grins, stuffing his face with brownie. “Regular people call them back or passenger seat.”

“Either way, no one’s taking that bike, unless their name is Dean Winchester and I’m on the back.”

Dean grins wider with every passing moment of the exchange. “How about we do that later tonight, huh, angel?”

Beaming at him, Cas’ puts his hands together adorably, in an enthusiastic, pleading gesture. “Yes, please.”

“You know?” Gabe says. “I think it’s good they’re in quarantine with all of this.”

He gestures wildly at Cas, still in Dean’s lap. The chair’s groaning every time they move.

“They’re making me frisky,” he adds meaningfully.

Sam narrows his eyes, shaking his hair back, as he extends his legs, crossing them at the ankles. For a moment, Dean feels the electric charge run from Sam to Gabe, whose eyes just turn to slits the wider he smiles.

“By all means, pretend like no one else is here,” Adam says.

Sam scoffs. “There’s a lot of that going around. We may need to head home soon anyway. They set up checkpoints.”

“Yeah,” Michael grunts. “Are you allowed to be on the road? What’s your business here?”

“You do have a bit of a ride ahead of you,” Cas says.

“Want to take some of that when you go home?” Dean asks, nodding at the food.

“Don’t mind if we do,” Gabe says.

Michael almost knocks Adam over in his hurry to get to the table too. “Yes!”

“Hold on,” Dean says. “We’ve got some good stuff in the freezer. I’ll go get a few boxes.”

Cas smiles, as he gets off Dean’s lap. “I love how you’re always feeding everyone.”

He heads inside, returning with two boxes: one Mexican lasagna and one Shepherd’s pie. “Who wants which?”

They wrap up the food in two bags, before opening the gate. Out of sheer habit, he goes in for a hug, watching Sam tense up.

“This is awkward,” Dean grunts softly.

“Sort of defeats the purpose of maintaining our distance while we were here, right?” Sam says with a sad smile.

“Kinda. I guess.”

No, he’s not being petulant. Cas hugs him from behind, warm and tight.

“At least we’ve got each other, huh?” Gabe says.

Adam looks about the same way Dean feels, Michael’s arm draped around him. He can tell they’re all sitting on the obvious.

_This sucks._

Which is perhaps for the best, because they got to spend time together. So he folds his arms over Cas’, holding onto him tightly, as they watch them go. They stand idle for a while after the cars are out of sight.

Cas makes a humming noise at his ear, that has Dean turning around to pull him into his arms.

“Were you serious about that bike ride?” Cas asks softly.

“I sure as hell didn’t patch her up to then not take you for a ride,” Dean smiles.

He saunters over to the bike, knowing Cas’ eyes are on him as he casually throws his leg over. Smiling, he looks at Cas and extends his hand, eyebrow cocked the right side of teasing.

“Coming, angel?”

For all his bravado, his heart flutters helplessly when Cas gives him That Look, pressing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and walks over, fingers brushing his. Dean entwines them, leading Cas as if they’re dancing while he gets on the bike, cozying up behind him. His voice comes in soft and eager at Dean's ear.

“Anywhere, hotshot."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! *stares at the ending*
> 
> I’m so on the fence about bringing this to an end. It’s the right thing to do for various reasons, mainly because I need to free up time for adulting and rest, which I can’t do at the rate I’ve been writing. (Shit’s harder than I thought.) Wish I could. Still happy I managed to do so for 33 days in a row and you all tagged along for the ride.
> 
> These two grew beyond what I expected when I started a story because Misha posted about his granny. Pretty sure it's down to your positive responses! I don't exclude the possibility they’ll give me more inspiration. If they do, I’ll post updates. For now, consider this their open, happy ending.
> 
> I don’t know if this sounds silly, but I’ve gotten used to interacting with you on a daily basis. It’s made me smile. A lot. Through a difficult time, so that energy went both ways. Thank you for that from the bottom of my heart. You've helped keep me anchored (hence the mild anxiety at letting it go). I’m going to miss this. (Yes, I am an emotional being.)
> 
> I hope you remain safe and weird as the world out there continues to turn and do its thing, hopefully changing and evolving for the better. I hope your loved ones remain safe. If it’s difficult, I can offer my hugs and a re-read of this silly, little, (for the most part) fluffy thing or point you to my other stories. 
> 
> Never hesitate to drop me a line, okay? Even when you re-read or discover a new thing!
> 
> Until then and as always, much love to you and yours,  
> Stay safe and weird.  
> Mal
> 
> As a small P.S.: If yesterday’s chapter gave you ideas, start [right here](https://www.theduchy.com/). They have the knowledge, the tutorials, the resources for material. Be safe and all that. Cause I'm sure y'all know exactly where the porn is.


	34. Timestamp One: May 6th 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The worst of returning to work is missing Cas. Quite intensely. His skin craves his touches and he can’t get those, while he is at Benny’s. Having him around 24/7. In the past, the concept freaked him out, but then, none of those people were Cas. Simply knowing they are both in the same house, that he is right there is enough. 

Wednesdays, he works at Benny’s, even when there isn’t a ton of work. They just agreed on a few fixed days. Benny also wants his food, on the regular. 

Dean’s grateful for the rain, soaking the world and bringing the temperature down. The soil needs it and it does Cas and Jack favours. The sun brings out his catlike tendencies and has him basking in the golden light, preferably in Dean’s lap. His thoughts skip back to that first time, a warm feeling swirling hot and low in his gut. Rain wraps him in his poetic beauty, the way he sits on the windowsill in his office, cuddled up in a blanket, sipping the hot drink Dean made him.

Like a true force of nature, Cas responds to all elements.

Claire, not so much, as she’s taking to mewling her head off, expecting her Hoomans to be able to fix the leaking sky. He smiles reflexively at the stray thoughts of home.

Turns out it only takes a few weeks of isolation to get used to an entirely different rhythm. The first week of working at Benny’s was brutal, even when it wasn’t a full week. Early mornings are not his thing, despite how easily he functions. Nor is the job only working on cars, which would have been fun. There isn’t enough work. So he is doing all kinds of odd repair jobs around the place, while Benny catches up on paperwork and allows his shoulder to heal. They set up a tyre change service for their fixed clientele, which has provided them with a few appointments in the coming weeks.

Today, however, he’s tinkering on Benny’s old-timer. A Mercedes Benz, because Benny’s a sucker for the song. More of a private project, but one he happily, easily shares with Dean. One of the front gates is open, the sound of the rain a pleasant backdrop.

Dean learns he and Benny share a dislike for paperwork, a love for food, cars and old movies. So it is all too easy to get along with Benny and he finds himself coming home from his working days, spouting happy stories. Thankfully, it also brings in money, most of which he wires straight to Cas, who of course protests that. To no avail. It’s not like he’s spending a lot of money on extras.

The worst of returning to work is missing Cas. Quite intensely. His skin craves his touches and he can’t get those, while he is at Benny’s. Having him around 24/7. In the past, the concept freaked him out, but then, none of those people were Cas. Simply knowing they are both in the same house, that he is right there is enough. 

Watching Cas wander around distractedly, hear him curse at the television or his translations, and either observe or join in the yoga. Have Cas glued to his back while he is cooking, warm hands under his shirt, breath on the back of his neck. Nights of endless cuddles. Sleeping in. Convincing Cas to stay in bed longer, failing, and then amply making up for it later in the day.

So lost.

He’s so deep in that myriad of memories, working on automatic, he doesn’t hear the footsteps until they’re almost right behind him. Wheeling around, he blinks rapidly when he is suddenly nose to nose with Cas, who, unsurprisingly, steps all the way into his space.

“Cas!”

A crooked grin forms, elation sparking in his chest, the split second before Cas leans in, capturing his lips in a kiss. Just one. But it travels his nervous system beautifully, because so close on the heel of those memories of wanting Cas with him, his body seems to sense it as a reward. Relief.

So yeah, he cups Cas’ face and pulls him in for another kiss, forgetting his hands are dirty and not noticing the container in Cas’ arms. And even with the adorable little yelp, Cas goes with it, one hand actually slipping underneath Dean’s tank, while he opens up to him.

He soaks him up relentlessly, scent, flavour, presence, relishing how they respond to each other.

“MmhphDeannn!”

He laughs at the adorable muffled sound Cas produces and releases him. Barely. Enough for their lips to touch when he speaks.

“Heya, angel,” he murmurs deeply.

“Fucking hell, hotshot,” Cas exhales hotly. “It’s only been a few hours.”

“Yet here you are.”

“Well, yes,” he smiles brightly, squirming free enough to press the container up between them. “You forgot to make your lunch.”

“I did?”

Dean takes the container from him, stomach doing its Pavlov thing at the sight of food. It’s enough for two, he notices.

“You slept through your alarm, then tried to convince me into… stuff.” He flusters cutely, even though Dean’s sure it was Cas who tried to keep him in bed. “And then basically rushed out. I wasn’t even sure if you brushed your teeth, until now.”

Dean’s grin grows wider with every word and he peppers more kisses to Cas’ face, earning a matching one for each in turn, until they’re a widely smiling, cuddly mess.

“My god,  _ chers _ , you two could power a town, the way you’re beaming.”

Contrary to what Dean expects, Cas does not step away. Quite the contrary. The energy he exudes pulls at his core, because what the teasing hell is this? Cas straightens to his full length, one arm possessively around and  _ under _ Dean’s tank, while he looks at Benny.

“You must be Benny,” he smiles.

The glint in Cas’ stormy blues, like the clouds overhead, stirs something to wakefulness in Dean, which, hey, no, bad idea. Public place. Boss. Right there. But…  _ Cas. Also right there. _ His lizard brain provides all kinds of brilliant ideas of what they could get up to here, which, thankfully perhaps for his sanity and language skills, Benny cuts off.

“And you must be his Cas,” Benny grins.

“As a matter of fact, I am.”

Why does he sound so sharp? His Cas isn’t this sharp around the edges. He’s strong, sassy, and smokin’ hot, Dean’s brain adds unhelpfully. Benny chuckles easily and walks over. He makes to extend a hand to Cas, but they get stuck in that stilted right-still-a-pandemic-dance. But Cas leans closer to Benny, as if he’s studying his face or borderline sniffing him? Which Benny allows.

Also weird! What the hell is going on with everyone?

“It’s good to meet you. Dean here talks my ear off about you and considering how long you’ve known each other, the stories just keep comin’.”

“He does?” Cas asks, nonplussed.

Some of the hot wind goes out of Cas’ sails at the question, while he steps back from Benny.

“Of course,” Benny says, slapping him in the shoulder unexpectedly.

It jostles Cas, because he doesn’t expect it from strangers. It’s a miracle he’s accepting it without freezing, especially given the circumstances. His gaze, easing back into its usual kind, warm self, flicks from Benny to Dean.

It finally dawns on Dean.

Jealousy?

_ Oh, shit. _

“Cas,” he whispers.

They share that strangely intense moment of knowing what’s going on at the same time without being able to acknowledge it out loud. Good thing is he doesn’t need to do so with words. Benny’s not much the wiser, when Dean hooks his fingers into Cas’ hand, squeezing down hard enough to anchor him. There’s a lovely tint to Cas’ cheekbones, while he shoots Dean one of those smiles that releases butterflies around his heart.

“Lunch date?”

“Take yer time,” Benny smiles. “I am Skyping with my wife. One of the babes is ill.”

This draws Cas’ attention back to Benny, his face opening like a flower’s in its vulnerability. “Babies? What’s wrong?”

Benny shakes his head. “One babe, one toddler, but I keep callin’ them that. Kid’s got a bout of snot, because he keeps tossing his clothes off in the yard.”

Dean barks a laugh the same time Cas snickers, eyebrows shooting up. “Pardon?”

“Whyyyy have I not heard this before?”

“A little nudist,” Benny grins. “So nothing bad, but he’s very clingy when he’s ill.”

“Aww, poor runt.”

“Runt’s the word. Enjoy your lunch.”

He stalks off to the chaotic office in the back and closes the door behind him.

“Thanks for bringing me food,” Dean says.

“I figure it’s only fair, seeing how often you feed me.”

“If you hadn’t, I might have been able to come home early.”

A sparkle lights in Cas’ eyes. “Huh… To do what?”

Dean runs his tongue over his teeth on a wicked smile, grinning wider when Cas squints at him. “Eat.”

“Uh-huh,” he mutters. “I’m sure.”

He leans in and noses behind Cas’ ear, planting a few kisses. “Such tasty noms too.”

“I miss you too,” Cas smiles.

His response is drawn from him, almost against his will, explosively so. “God, I do.”

Cas blinks at him in sweet concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, Cas,” he nods, pulling him along to the back. “I’m good. Just running a bit lost in memories before you arrived.”

“So that’s why I managed to sneak up on you.”

“You need a friggin’ bell, like Claire.” He gestures at an old table bench. “It ain’t fancy.”

“It smells interesting here.”

Dean narrows his eyes at Cas, searching for sarcasm or discomfort, and finds none. “Grease monkey smell.”

“I like it. Kinda like when you’ve been working on your bike, just a lot more of it in one place. Which memories?”

“Too many connected slivers really, but all good. Happy ones.”

Cas rests his chin in his hand, trying not to laugh. “Sap.”

“Says the one who got jealous about my boss?” Dean asks, ensuring his tone lands on gentle rather than teasing.

Cas splutters, letting his gaze fall to the food. “What? No. Maybe.” He plucks at the sleeves of his trench, blushing in earnest this time. Dean’s heart twists painfully at the obvious discomfort. “Yes?”

“It’s okay, angel,” he says, intuitively, because he’s not sure why Cas suddenly looks so ill at ease. “What…?”

Using one of the spoons Cas brought from home, Dean divides the food in the lid and holder of the container. A coconut milk curry with a truckload of vegetables, shrimp and noodles from last night. Sliding Cas’ portion over, he brushes his fingers, while entangling their legs, the fabric of his overalls loud against Cas’ jeans.

“Ah, hell,” Dean says. “I’ll get us something to drink. Juice or water? We don’t have much to offer here.”

“Water is good.”

By the time Dean returns, Cas seems to have gathered his thoughts sufficiently. They dig into the food in amiable silence, barring the constant sound of rain.

“I’ve only known jealousy as a bad emotion. Something you’re not supposed to feel or something that limited me, because I wasn’t allowed stuff.”

Dean snorts gently. “Jealousy is a human emotion.”

“But it rarely leads anywhere nice.”

Quirking a questioning eyebrow, he prods Cas.

“Oh, no,” Cas says vehemently, “I am not digging up those panicky ‘what if’ scenarios.”

“Because you’re worried I’ll get mad or they’ll come true?”

“Both? Neither. Because they’re not worth your time. Or mine, really.”

“Cas, if you need reassurance, I’m here. Any way you want. Just…”

“Snap my fingers?”

Dean grins indulgently. “Something like that.”

Chewing pensively, Cas sinks into his own mind for a few intriguing moments. Dean focuses on his food, trying not to inhale it in one go.

“Can I snap my fingers and get a delayed response?”

“As in you want to request something now…”

“And have it happen at home, yes,” Cas says.

He wipes his mouth clean with his hand, tucking the cutlery into the lid. Dean’s face must be doing something interesting, because Cas snickers, his smile going from that to his wide, gummy laugh, and there are wild ideas swimming in both their heads. Dean’s heart picks up a funny pace, excitement reawakening those darker swirls of desire he felt earlier.

“Sure thing.”

Cas smiles around his thumb, unable to stop, it seems, eyes alight. “Do I have to come up with it now?”

“Maybe? Give me a direction, at least,” Dean smirks.

“Umm… What do you mean?”

“Cas,” he grins. “My lizard brain was already chasing its own tail before you got here. So unless you want me to basically kick the door down and have my way with you wherever I happen to find you, yeah, give me some direction. What do you have in mind?”

Cas’ tongue is protruding, pink and wet, between his lips, clearly mesmerized by the picture Dean painted.

“Or y’know, let me do exactly that,” he laughs.

“Ummm, no. I mean, maybe,” Cas stutters sweetly, then laughs helplessly. “Goddamnit, Dean.”

“Hmm? I’m listening.”

“I’m trying to think now. It’s not working very well.”

“Well, where was your head at when you suggested the thing?” 

He imitates a finger snap, stuck in that familiar moment of prolonged eye contact, where he’s not sure whether they’re drowning in each other or reading every subtle shift in emotion.

“Attention.”

“You are not helping,” Dean snickers.

“I know. Neither are you.”

“What kind of attention?”

“The kind that will shut up the voice telling me you’ll leave.”

“Fuck,” Dean exhales roughly.

The energy in the air is still playful, but the way Cas ducks his head, even while he sits taller makes him reach out, entwining their fingers on both hands.

“I won’t,” he says simply. “And I know what to do.”

Cas flutters his lashes, tilting his head, while his thumbs run circles on the inside of Dean’s wrists. “You do?”

“Yep. You want to know?”

“I trust you. Though maybe tell me if I should expect being throttled to the floor?”

“No, at least not at first,” Dean smiles. “We’ll see how the eve goes.”

Cas hums sweetly, the tension easing up somewhat, and he can sense his intention set for the day. He wants to watch that tautness drain out of Cas along the night, the promise of forever given, and makes his list. With every item, he locks his gaze on a part of Cas, drinking in the moment.

Get home and take a shower together, washing Cas’ hair.

Cook dinner with Cas’ favorite playlist on. See if he can entice him into dancing for Dean, with Claire as a backup.

Have dinner by candlelight, because he’s a complete sucker for Cas’ darkened, twinkling eyes.

Take Cas and a bunch of poetry to bed early with extra blankets to compensate for the chillier temps. Cuddle up with him and read him poems for as long as needed.

And whatever comes after, he’ll leave up to Cas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with a first timestamp, as promised! No idea how many more will follow, but you'll see them show up. Currently putting the last touches to my Omegaverse and creating order in the chaos of the other three stories that are running rampant. (There are more, but backburner, ffs.)
> 
> Work's being a bit of a shit (both in terms of 'how necessary are you' vs. 'how dangerous is it really, come into work'), but I'm focusing my energy on writing, both fics and original work, so there is that. Changing times.
> 
> How are you, my darlings? I hope you and yours continue to be safe, healthy and weird.  
> As ever, always, so much love to you.  
> Hugs'n cookies,  
> Mal
> 
> P.S.: I'm craving cupcakes, so we're baking some tomorrow... with creamcheese topping. V random, I know.


	35. Timestamp Two: May 27th 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas is in the tub, while Dean is wrapping up the dishes, when his phone rings, flashing an unexpected name at him. The skin on his face seems to pull tighter, possibly because the blood is draining from it, but never one to dodge a confrontation, he picks up.
> 
> “John.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! There is another tiny thing lined up for along the week.
> 
> How are you?! (I had to resist using CAPS.)
> 
> Brief update:  
> Job is looking like a problem, as in potentially getting laid off, but I've got a plan in my mind, even if it's terrifying. (Partly self employed shenanigans.)  
> I am arting for the trope challenge. Small breakthrough versus technology today. It is not always my friend.  
> Working on an exchange fic and the background story for An Element Of Blank.  
> Partner and pets are good, and making new friends on here.  
> Also, maybe, just maybe, slowly turning into Gollum vis-a-vis this quarantine.  
> Everyone is still healthy too.  
> Blessings counted.  
> Tired though.
> 
> So... How are you?  
> Love to you and yours,  
> Mal

He’s at the laptop, crunching numbers, when Cas appears out of his office, looking like The Whomping Willow had a field day with him. Dean smiles, reaching out to smooth his hair into some semblance of order, but stops at the halfway point, when Cas sort of just _stands_ there, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt sleeves. His gaze and, thus, mind are elsewhere, though he’s looking straight at Dean.

The weather’s improving, but neither one of them is particularly fond of heat. Not the kind of hot that gives you swamp nuts, even when you’re doing jackshit.

“My brain is not okay.”

Dean takes him in, opening his arms just a smidge, the subtlest of gestures, but Cas takes it, stepping into his space without hesitation. The strength behind his arms pulls Dean off balance, while he brings his own around to stabilize both of them. He wants to ask what happened, but knows it’s a moot point, when Cas hiccups and his body convulses, like he’s trying to bite back pain.

He buries one hand in Cas’ hair, planting the other firmly between his shoulder blades, and pulls them flush together. Cas hides in his neck, a small sob wrenched out. Silently, he tightens his grip on Cas, the muscles under his trembling, his ribs pushing back with every sharp inhale. It isn’t a panic attack, but it has the potential to escalate.

Kissing the bolt of Cas’ jaw, he wraps himself around him, using the few inches he has on him to his advantage. It always catches him off guard, when Cas becomes so _small_ in his embrace during these moments. Like he’s shedding his armor.

His shirt gets damp, Cas pressing his face into the crook of his neck, the sharp edge of the glasses’ elbow cutting into him, before Cas readjusts. His breath comes hot against Dean’s collarbone, but slower. A few more shaky inhales, that - strangely - remind him of the days when he got Sam through his nightmares as a kid, before he peels himself off Dean.

“Heya, angel,” he smiles.

Gently, he brushes his thumbs over the soft patches of skin under Cas’ slightly puffy eyes, then trails them to his cheekbones. Cards them through his hair, because fuck, if his heart isn’t breaking at the sight.

Cas grimaces. “Ugh, I snotted up your shirt.”

He chuckles, tugging at the fabric for a moment. “It’s fine. Though your glasses look messy.”

Inching back minutely, Cas squints at him and removes said glasses. Dean makes to let go of him, so he can clean them.

“Mmh, don’t let go.”

He weaves his fingers together at Cas’ lower back, giving him barely enough space to move. Cas’ brows are in that perma-squint again, while he cleans his glasses on Dean’s shirt, because, yes, of course, that is also what he’s there for. Apparently.

“Don’t hold back,” he smirks.

“What? Oh, shit,” Cas grumbles.

His face scrunches up again.

“Cas, I’m teasing.” He kisses him, quickly in its intent, but Cas chases him when he retreats, breathing him in. When they break apart, he puts his glasses back on, squinting to readjust.

“Thank you.”

“Uh-huh. Always,” he says, fingers at Cas’ jawline, thumbs at his cheekbones. “You know that.”

“I do. Just a bad brain day,” he says.

Dean nods. “I gathered. Anything you wanna do?”

Which is the equivalent to asking Cas to go over his arsenal, reminding him of all the ways he has a handle on this.

“Nothing foolproof,” Cas huffs. “But I think I wanna cook? Take a bath. And…”

Dean hums, when Cas falls silent, nosing at his temple. “Yes?”

“And fall asleep in your arms on the couch, because I’m not really watching whatever is on, but I also don’t want to go to bed.”

“Sounds like a good deal.”

“Even the cooking?”

“Jeez, Cas, you’re a good cook. I keep telling you.”

Cas grumps sweetly and shrugs. Just like that, he slips out of Dean’s grasp towards the kitchen. It’s going to be a mess. Cas is a good cook, but also a mucky one, and the kitchen ends up looking like the dinner table with The Lost Boys.

*

Cas is in the tub, while Dean is wrapping up the dishes, when his phone rings, flashing an unexpected name at him. The skin on his face seems to pull tighter, possibly because the blood is draining from it, but never one to dodge a confrontation, he picks up.

“John.”

There’s a brief sharp intake of breath on the other side and then John’s voice, which he hasn’t heard in years, except in his own head, pipes up. “Dean.”

Ah, yes. Stilted. He’s missed this.

Rubbing his forehead, he can feel the wrinkles there and the tightening of his back muscles, as he closes his eyes and tries to feel his way around this shit.

“You… Uhh, you okay? Sam…” He clicks his tongue, sucking his lips in slightly. “Sam said you called.”

“Yeah, kid, I did. I just…”

_Kid._

Dean didn’t know tension could be this palpable across a goddamn phone connection, but when it comes to their dad, he should have known. John was never much of a talker. Passed that wonderful trait on to Dean and it’s taken him years to unlearn some of it.

He still shields his loved ones. Always will.

“How are you?”

The relief in John’s sigh is painful. “Okay enough. The force is proving good for me.”

He nods. “Okay. That’s good, right? Your timing is impeccable in terms of how much risk you’re actually running, but… Well…”

“Winchesters,” John says in a quick, uneven laugh. “What are you going to do about it?”

“More than you give yourself credit for,” Dean says, before he can help it.

Of course, it makes them both even more awkward, and they both…

“Fuck.”

“Shit.”

And they chuckle lightly in unison. Just a few seconds, but okay, it alleviates some of the pressure that’s on him.

“Son,” John says, and he sounds more on edge, like it matters. “Are you okay? All of you?”

His thoughts suddenly go a mile a second, wondering how much Sam told him, then realizing his brother wouldn’t. He’d like to interpret it as a generic question, but knows that’s not right either.

“Yes, I’m living with Cas now. I was here when the lockdown hit and with the restaurant closed, I didn’t see the point of going back home. He works from home and I got a part time job at a car shop nearby.”

Why it all spills out so easily, he doesn’t know. Maybe because it’s a diversion from the first thing he said. Easy intel to help John swallow that down. Because it’s why he kicked out Sam and why he never stopped Dean.

So why is he making it easier on him?

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

He actually chokes on air. Which shouldn’t be possible, but he does anyway, and hears his father laughing. That self-deprecating laugh he finds so alien and familiar at the same time.

“That bad, huh?”

“What?”

“To hear your old man apologize.”

Dean scoffs, gripping the phone tighter, his lips pursing. “Maybe? Just… I’m not sure what you want, dad, and whatever it is, I’m not even sure I… can…”

“No expectations, Dean. I don’t need anything from you or Sam or Adam,” John says. “Not really. I just wanted to make sure you’re all okay. That you’re in good… Better hands.”

 _Happy_.

The words make him want to reassure his father. That it wasn’t that bad. That he tried. That he did what he could. But somehow he fears that will make things ten times worse for both of them. And he isn’t sure he believes it. Or can say those words without his voice breaking. Which-fucking-ever.

He clenches his jaw, wholly unprepared for these feelings, and rests his hip against the kitchen counter. “I am. We are.”

“Okay. That’s great,” John mutters, exhaling harshly. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.”

“Dishes. Cas is in the tub. Had a bit of a day.” He suddenly wonders if his dad has been alone this whole time. Another question which brings in its wake more feelings, none of which he wants to deal with. “You?”

“A late shift, a jog and home.”

Dean stares at the phone dumbfounded. “A jog? Sam would approve.”

John merely laughs, likely equally unsure where to take this next or how to end it. Cas comes to his unbidden rescue, his voice announcing his arrival as he comes down the stairs.

“Dean! Did you already pick out a movie? I just wanna colla… Oh, shit. Sorry, I didn’t know you were on the phone,” Cas whispers near the end.

“That’s okay,” Dean says. “It’s… It’s dad.”

“Hmm,” John says. “That’s my cue, I believe. Tell Castiel hi from me, if it lands. Enjoy your eve. You two always were good to each other.”

“I… Yeah, I will. Thanks, dad. Enjoy your jog?”

“Sure thing, son.”

Cas saunters over, hooking their fingers together, and his eyebrows rise in a mute question.

“I’m okay,” Dean says, nodding a few times.

“Indeed,” Cas murmurs, eyebrow cocking up. He plants a warm, damp hand to the back of Dean’s neck. “I take it you plan to throw up your defences?”

“I…” He scowls. “Not really, but nothing much was said, so I don’t want it to ruin this eve.”

Cas exhales harshly through his nose, lips setting in a tight line, and Dean drops his eyes, because he’s not equipped to handle either his anger or his puppy eyes. “Cas, I’m sorry…”

“I understand.” A gentle nudge at his cheek and Cas is in his space. “One of those days. Just don’t hide when it hits.”

He works his tongue over his teeth and nods again. They settle on the couch, Cas between his legs, Dean’s back cushioned by their largest pillow. Claire hops up to curl up on hers. He decides on Indy, since Cas intends to pass out. Soon he’s distracted by nuzzling into Cas’ hair and sliding his hands over his back, coaxing out little sounds, until Cas’ weight grows heavier and he’s out like a light.


	36. Timestamp Three: May 29th 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out Cas is greedier than Dean. Who knew?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very short, very random thing that poured out. No idea what purpose it truly serves, but it exists now.
> 
> Lots of love and happy incoming weekend, I hope. It's a long one here.  
> Hugs,  
> Mal
> 
> P.S. I am artiiiiiing for a challenge and feeling like maybe progress with the iPad. Jeez. Finally.

Turns out Cas is greedier than Dean. Who knew?

Ever since he started working at Benny’s weeks ago, Cas has been doing the human equivalent of cats going  _ ‘how dare you leave me alone for a few hours?!’ _ , the second he steps back into the house. Which, come to think of it, Claire does at him as well.

In her case, it ranges from mewling at him loudly while trying to trip him up, then running when he wants to pick her up, to ignoring him from her queenly perch on top of the cat tree to pointing out her food or water bowl aren’t as full as they ought to be, by pointedly sitting next to them, until he reaches out to pet her. Then she fucks off.

Cas does human equivalents of each.

He makes noises at Dean from inside his office, until Dean finds his way there and they welcome each other back with kisses. Contrary to Claire, that works. They range from those quick, sweet pecks to full-on make-out sessions on Cas’ desk, even though Cas always doth protest too much.

He mentions being on the verge of starving, even though they both know that’s not true, then proceeds to distract Dean, while he’s cooking. They talk about their day, Cas glued to his back, until they’ve gotten past some of their perceived levels of being touch-starved, and they cook together.

He never ignores Dean, because let’s be fair, neither one of them is capable of that. The mere thought is ridiculous. 

Then there are those very human days when Dean succeeds at sneaking up on Cas and can kiss him before Cas realizes Dean’s home, because he’s delightfully distracted. By his work. By the garden. By whatever book he’s reading. By his libido. Those are exceptional. Days where he comes home and Cas is in the bed, his sounds luring Dean in. Or on the couch, if he’s feeling particularly bratty and intent on provoking Dean.

The world out there is far from normal, but the one he comes home to every day… He is loving every breath of it.


End file.
